


Nautilus

by dehautdesert



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Civil War, Endgame Polyamory, Game of Thrones-esque, M/M, Meeting at your Wedding, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Past Child Abuse, Steampunk, War Crimes, aftermath of war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 104,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dehautdesert/pseuds/dehautdesert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having backed the late Duke Hisui in his rebellion against the Golden Empire, and lost, the remainder of the despised Fushimi family are in dire straits: surrounded by the Empire on all sides and with neither allies, nor airships of their own left to defend them.</p><p>Fortunately, (or unfortunately depending on your perspective,) the Lady Kisa still has some cards to play with.</p><p>(The Steampunk/Omegaverse/Civil War/Arranged Marriage AU that precisely no one was asking for!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Betrothal

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines day, guys: I present to you the most unromantic Valentines' fic ever!
> 
> If you've never come across Omega fic before; the basic idea and the most important one for this story is that in this verse, males known as 'Omegas' are able to bear children, and Saruhiko is an Omega in this fic. (I think there are a few K Omega fics about, but it always helps to note these things). Since this was important to the plot I went back and forth over whether to make this Omegaverse or genderswap before eventually deciding on the former because... idk, reasons.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, various ages will be played around with and the Colourless King who was never named will be referred to as 'Isana Yashiro', as Adolf Weismann will be appearing as himself.
> 
> As I said in the notes to my other current K fic, this will be a one... well, okay, a three-shot (I know, I know), and contain the very best in 'fics that wouldn't leave my mind while I was writing Deep Blue Sea'. Don't worry though, that one will be updated next weekend. Now, I've drawn a map to try and help with the navigation of this AU, but unfortunately I can't figure out how to post it, so I probably shouldn't have even mentioned it at all... :P

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

So.

This was the way his world ended. And there was only one reason left to care.

Saruhiko lay on his bed, curtain on the other side of his opulent and stifling room open just enough for him to see a patch of sky outside it; half-blue, half-grey with cloud. If he was still enough, he could hear the shouts of soldiers and the noise of heavy machinery through the glass, out beyond the palace grounds. The rolling of the anti-aircraft artillery into peak position. The raising of the anti-siege towers. The running of the fuelling carts along the tracks.

No airships of their own of course; the Emperor's army had brought down the last of them a fortnight ago as they had escorted—against his mother's orders—the then-last surviving member of the Hisui clan on their attempt to reach the continent.

Kisa had wanted the remaining ships back on Fushimi grounds to defend the ancestral home; but Aya, plagued as she had been with misplaced loyalty, had insisted on trying to help Sukuna escape.

The whole world knew by now how well that had turned out for everyone involved.

But it turned Saruhiko's stomach somewhat to admit Kisa had been in the right. If only she'd made a habit of it, they might have thrown their lot in with the winning side of this ridiculous war.

He shut his eyes tight and turned them against his pillow, clutching the half-shell wooden pendant to his chest.

They were all so _screwed._

"My lord!"

There was a rapid knock at the door. Saruhiko recognised the voice of one of his mother's chief creatures and exhaled. He didn't need to listen to the man to know what he was there for, there was only one reason his mother would be calling on him now.

Not that that stopped the idiot outside from elaborating. "My lord, her ladyship the Countess requires your immediate presence in the hall! The delegation from the Empire have flown their flags on the mountain!"

It was time to face the music together; mother and son.

Their joint execution would probably be the most time they'd spent together since Kisa had managed to expel him from her womb.

 

*~*~*

 

_The summer sun had shone its last that day, lighting up a few red leaves that had already fallen to the ground. It must have been early October when he'd last seen Misaki, over three years ago._

_He still thought of him when the leaves were red._

_And when they were green._

_And when they were gone completely._

_"My mom's husband and I both agree, Saruhiko," Misaki had said, face just as red with some emotion not quite entirely embarrassment. "We're leaving for the inner territories. Probably Kagustsu or Suoh lands; somewhere in the south." He'd tried to smile. "Where it will be sunny."_

_That last holdover from summer had made about a month in total of that season that hadn't rained on them like it did every year in the far-western mountains._

_Saruhiko had known this had been coming._

_But it still hurt._

_"Has my mother given you permission?" he'd asked, trying hard to sound like he didn't care and he felt succeeding in that, from Misaki's lack of further-saddened reaction._

_He'd known the answer. Misaki's silence had been a 'no' anyway. So his tongue had clicked and that awful smile everyone hated had come onto his face._

_"That's dangerous, Misaki. My family will issue a warrant for your arrest. If my father's feeling in a funny mood, he'll string your little siblings up next to you and your parents if they catch you. If he's in an especially funny mood, you'll all burn."_

_Misaki's fists had clenched._

_"Isn't that why we have to leave!" he shouted. "Because here the people are ruled by... by..."_

_"By my parents? Mi-sa-ki?"_

_Poor Misaki had been so fun to tease. As if Saruhiko would have been offended on his parents behalf; he hated those bastards more than anyone. But Misaki had had to clench his fists and think it was a hard thing for Saruhiko to hear when he said—_

_"People who do bad things are wrong. Even if they're your friend's parents. And don't use my first name, Saru, you know I hate it."_

_"Don't use your first name? Misaki, haven't you forgotten I'm a knighted son of a Countess? Should a peasant really be calling me by my first name? Maybe I should be the one to string you up."_

_"Don't joke about things like that, Saruhiko! It's only because you're a noble that you can!"_

_Saruhiko still didn't know about that. Whether the twisted part of him that made a joke of the idea of killing what he loved was the prerogative of a noble, or if it was just him, the son of two twisted, terrible people._

_Kisa had made a spectacle of a twelve-year-old 'broken on the wheel' only three days prior, or rather she'd had Niki do it while she'd tended to their ever-swelling accounts; broken for the sake of some graffiti insulting to the Countess' family. When it had been done and the body had been hanging limply from the spokes, bones piercing through every limb, Niki had thrown the boy's mother a gold coin, 'for the show'._

_That had probably been the last straw for Misaki, who'd watched struggling against Saruhiko's hold until he'd had to knock him out to stop him yelling something that would have got him killed too._

_"As I'm a noble," Saruhiko said to Misaki after the admonishment, "it begs the question why you'd tell me of your family's planned defiance of mine? Wouldn't I report you to mummy and daddy, Misaki?"_

_Misaki had looked at him with less anger and more courage then, a look Saruhiko had never been able to decide whether he liked or not._

_"I know you think I'm stupid, Saruhiko," he'd said, deadly serious. "A low-born peasant's brain for a low-born peasant. But I do know there's a war coming, and I plan to be on the side that fights against people who do things like your parents do. I want to free this land from those tyrants that control it."_

_"Tyrants, are we?"_

_"Your parents are," Misaki insisted. Then that little thread of uncertainty had shown in his face, and he'd added, "Maybe... someone could free you from them too. I—I think you'd be a good ruler, Saruhiko."_

_"Idiot. I'm an Omega; how much ruling am I going to be doing?"_

_"Your mother—"_

_"Kisa had her father wrapped around her little finger when it came to choosing herself an Alpha; it's the only way trash like Niki could have married into our family." He remembered his smirk turning into a different kind of smile. "Those two aren't going to be marrying me to anyone I have a chance of ruling through. Probably try to arrange a match with Hisui Nagare himself, if they have the chance."_

_The idea had made Misaki look almost as disgusted as it made Saruhiko feel; and he hadn't even met Hisui Nagare at that point._

_Of course, being the people they were, Kisa and Niki were destined to make sure he was tied to an even more unappealing prospect._

_But back then..._

_"Then maybe you could come with us—"_

_"Idiot."_

_A little laugh had escaped Misaki's throat. "Yeah," he'd said, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. "I guess I am. But I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye—"_

_"Why thank you, Mi-sa-ki. How my heart would have broken had one filthy peasant run away without letting me know—"_

_"—And without giving you my going-away present."_

_Saruhiko's eyebrow had quirked._

_It went without saying that any gift a peasant could give a lord was sure to be looked upon with disdain, but since Saruhiko hadn't been able to remember ever receiving a gift from... anyone, that was for him and not for his title, he'd been momentarily dumbstruck, as the shorter redhead had fished around in his over-the-shoulder bag and pulled out..._

_...two wooden pendants, on two cords._

_"I've been saving up for a while," Misaki had said proudly. "Had to get something nice for your lordly self. Hah."_

_He'd proffered one of them to Saruhiko, who'd taken it because he hadn't been able to think of a sarcastic remark to buffer it back. A shell; or half of one, carved from a wood whose grain ranged from light to dark—Saruhiko couldn't have told you what kind—and with a small, blue glass bead pressed into the centre. Cheap materials, but the carving was extremely intricate on the 'inside' half of the shell._

_"There's an old man on Stormstrike Mountain who used to live on the coast, and he says that's what a seashell looks like if you open it up."_

_It was; and wickedly accurate at that. Saruhiko had books with drawings of such things._

_"We were thinking of going by sea," Misaki had said sadly. "Only my step-father's ever seen it before. Anyway, these two fit together, see? I thought the blue one suited you better, my one's got a red bead, and that old man says that where he was from people used to have pendants like this that fit together, and only with each other, and if you're going away and there might be danger then you give one half to someone close to you, and neither of you will die until the two halves are reunited!"_

_Saruhiko's lips had twitched back into a smile at that, remembering those same books mentioning this custom as a casual curiosity._

_"That way," Misaki had said, "this can protect you while I'm not around."_

_To be protected by a small lump of wood? Ridiculous._

_"Someone 'close' to you, is it?" Saruhiko had asked._

_"Are you going to say we aren't close?" Misaki had asked, now with good humour, so Saruhiko knew that the old man had kept part of the custom secret from him, probably as a joke._

_Misaki hadn't known that the half-shell pendant was what an Alpha gave their Omega fiancé before they departed for war, as a promise to be married upon their return._

_"It's a stupid superstition," he'd said. "That only an idiot peasant would believe,"_

_And he'd put the pendant in the inside breast-pocket of his coat, next to his heart._

_"Say what you will, Saruhiko," Misaki had said, tears in his eyes as he'd grinned. "But I believe we will see each other again. That shell is my promise to you on that, okay?"_

 

*~*~*

 

Misaki and his family had made it out of Fushimi territory unscathed.

But for all Saruhiko knew his boat could have sunk and drowned the lot of them before they'd even reached the south, let alone given him the chance to die in the war that had indeed broken out three months later.

The half-shell pendant felt like it was red-hot in his pocket. Fearing for its safety, he rarely let it leave the secret cache in his rooms he'd designed to keep it away from Niki's sadistic gaze, but since he was marching off to death anyway, he figured he might as well take it with him. He almost wished he could have hung it around his neck, but Kisa would never have allowed such a thing.

"Head up high and eyes straight ahead, but don't look into any of their faces directly," Kisa was telling him, and must have been practicing to follow her own advice, because she certainly didn't look into his eyes as her servants fussed about his collar. She did spare him one glance to wrinkle her nose. "You don't want to be seen as challenging them, and it certainly wouldn't do to lose a challenge if you couldn't maintain your gaze. Our House must survive in dignity as well as in flesh, if it is to survive."

Must it? Saruhiko wondered. Not that he cared, but he couldn't really think of anyone who wouldn't be better off without them both.

Well. He supposed those pesky servants would be out of a job. Or possibly killed. It all depended on what kind of example the Empire wanted to make of them as traitors to the realm.

He supposed it would be unfair to them if they were killed. But they'd have hardly been the only unjust victims of the war, and there was little love lost between him and them; they'd always served out of fear or greed, never loyalty, and those who were subservient and acquiescent enough to have survived his parents so far did nothing to earn his respect by doing so, nor had he endeared himself to them.

A hundred incidents and more had proven the worthlessness of each and every one of them.

And himself, he supposed. Kisa certainly seemed to think so.

" _His value's in his modesty as well as our money,_ " as she'd said, at _that time_. He'd never forget it, and at the moment there were questions hanging over both.

Now though, the Countess had other things to say.

"We cannot hope to buy our way out of punishment," she began, like Saruhiko was an imbecile who didn't already know these things. "If the Emperor wishes to take our mines and other properties, he will. We must make him believe we are willing to fight a war even if we cannot win it to defend ourselves, and hope he chooses to settle rather than expend the resources he'd need to destroy us. As long as he gives us his word our lives will be spared, he cannot renege later if we disarm."

"You really think his army wouldn't be all for risking their lives to destroy us?" Saruhiko asked, though he didn't really know why he was bothering. "The family and homestead of the _terrible_ Fushimi Niki?"

"Do you think the Emperor would want to be seen to sacrifice his honour or his troops to eliminate two _mere_ Omegas? We must be seen to be just as much the victims of Niki's whims as those desert peasants. There are already rumours on our side."

Saruhiko raised his eyebrows. "You want me to confirm those 'rumours'," he knew the ones she meant, "for the sake of garnering sympathy?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she told him, with distaste. "Your reputation would never recover. Besides, we can also prove them false if we wanted to. No, we must make them believe Niki was responsible for everything in order to seem unthreatening, not to seem sympathetic."

He clicked his tongue. "I suppose I won't cry and cling to your skirts then," he muttered.

"You had better not say anything at all unless you're spoken to, and if you are then you will say as little as possible. I will handle the negotiations. You will remember your place."

Ah, yes—his 'place'. Though he supposed the place of an underaged, unmarried Omega was at least such that he could expect a chance the Emperor would show mercy. Still, what would happen after that was up in the air? He and his mother would almost certainly be attained; stripped of their land and titles, and probably have their other assets repossessed as well.

Their only viable course of action to both provide for themselves and protect themselves from the no doubt numerous assassination attempts that awaited them in revenge for Niki's various butcheries, would be to enter the Church somewhere—the thought of which frankly made Saruhiko hope they _were_ sentenced to death instead.

It amused him though, to think he might track down Misaki wherever he was, show up penniless on his door with nothing but ragged clothes and an all-but-worthless wooden half-shell and laugh that its superstition had proven valid after all. Who would care if he married a cook's son, and a Beta at that, after his vast inheritance had found a new home in the Imperial coffers?

"I know what you're thinking," Kisa said abruptly, startling him. "Don't. You underestimate your symbolic worth in this conflict. You may not care for such things, but nobility as a whole, does."

What did she mean by that, Saruhiko wondered? There was the barest hint of a cruel smirk peeking out from her eyes that in an instant put him quite on edge. Was she planning on throwing him beneath the proverbial steam engine for a place in Kokujoji's good graces?

As an Omega, Saruhiko had not been expected to fight where other boys and Alphas his age would have—his presence in the service had been optional, and frankly a stupid idea as he was the only child of his parents. Aya had represented the blood of their house in battle in his stead—dear, loyal, stupid Aya. For all the public knew, Saruhiko had been doing his part training to keep the economy of the region running smoothly and overseeing the management of their non-military resources.

In reality, he was not so innocent of involvement in the war. But very few people knew about that, and most of them were dead.

_Most._

Who might any of them have told though? What about the engineers who had applied Saruhiko's designs to their war craft, did they know where the ideas had come from? Did any of the surviving captive generals?

And Aya—though they'd had no confirmation as of yet, the likelihood of her survival seemed bleak; but had she been taken prisoner who knew what she might have... might have been forced...

At least he knew Sukuna had died in the explosion—the little git. He would have blabbed without even being tortured, probably. But the Gods only knew who else had been told; of that and of his other contributions to the war effort. Duke Iwafune had said himself, with a wide grin and a congratulatory pat on the back, they would not have achieved their greatest victory of the war—the Battle of Seven Towers—without Saruhiko's work in deciphering enemy code.

For all the good it had done them.

Except Kisa, if she thought exposing him would save herself. Well. He knew more than a few secrets of hers too. Whatever she may have been thinking, he planned to make sure they'd go down to the block together or not at all.

"Posture, Saruhiko," she threw over her shoulder as she descended the steps to the carriage that waited for them. The front right of the snowy-white horses pawed the ground nervously at her approach.

He grit his teeth and followed her; briefly taking in what for all he knew may have been the last sight he ever had of his home. The palace he'd hated all his life; grey and speckled with the stubborn remains of ivy that had crept up over the months of war, when Kisa hadn't been there to order it cut back. The servants who may as well have been cold puppets operated from afar before there was fear in their eyes. The fountain, and the ridiculous exotic birds standing in it, pink and vibrant.

Flamingos, they were called—one of the stupidest looking birds he'd ever seen, and the latest in the line of curious creatures Niki had had brought to their palace to amuse himself until he inevitably killed them through neglect or boredom.

These pink oddballs had somehow outlived their sadistic master though. That almost made him smile.

"Don't dawdle," Kisa ordered, as she climbed inside the platinum-gilded carriage.

The sceptred mandrill of their family sigil's long teeth gleamed in the sun as she opened the door, and with a sigh and a click of his tongue he got in and sat opposite her.

"So annoying," he muttered.

She didn't pay him any attention after that though. Her right-hand cockroach scuttled in next to her; a Beta whose made-up face was wet with perspiration even through the powder and despite the mildness of the day. _Someone_ wasn't looking forward to driving up to enemy territory for the surrender negotiations—which amused Saruhiko because this particular cretin had always been the first to go 'Yes, my Lady Fushimi' and 'of course, my Lady Fushimi' to whatever Kisa said; and it turned out that 'yes, backing the rebellion against the Empire is obviously the correct course of action, you're so right, Lady Fushimi!' had actually been the _wrong_ answer.

His name? Yama-something or other, it wasn't important. He and Kisa back-and-forthed over which of their mines damaged by the war would receive what funds to repair them (assuming they lived to make the arrangements), as they had been doing ever since the ceasefire had been announced, for the entirety of the carriage's traverse off the palace grounds and into the mountain tunnel.

They were joined there by their escort; thirty men strong on either side to take them to the agreed site for the negotiations—a grove on the other side of the tunnel that had been the site of a now-ruined temple. The larger part of a stone throne remained for the old Emperor to rest his ancient ass on, if Saruhiko recalled correctly.

He and his mother would be expected to kneel for the duration. It was difficult to decide if being forced to kneel was worth it to see the same happen to Kisa; he'd have to see when the moment came, he supposed. The tunnel was almost five miles long, and every lamp along the way had been lit to its fullest output.

A stupid waste of energy, given their shortages in southern oil. They could have lit the whole track adequately with a third of the lamps, and probably would have if the great Lady Fushimi hadn't bestowed her beauteous presence beneath their light.

Saruhiko rested his cheek against the back of one hand; elbow balanced on the carriage window sill as he vaguely watched the nearest soldier and wondered what he looked like under his decorated helmet. He supposed he should have taken this time to think of some philosophical justification for his likely ugly fate. But he really couldn't be bothered. It wouldn't have changed a thing.

A long few hours went by.

Yet, even then, it was all too soon that they pulled up out of the tunnel and at the fork that lead off towards the ancient temple; only a few hundred metres beyond them. It was at this point Saruhiko caught his first glimpse of the Imperial soldiers of the Golden city of Shizume in all their glory; very unlike the few captives he'd seen on parade while at Nagare's own capital in the north, or the bodies of those who had decorated theirs and their allies' walls over the last four years.

They too wore face-concealing helmets, such as Saruhiko had only ever heard about. His parents had never let him go east of the mountains before, which some might have said unusual for a noble-born Omega male, but he supposed they hadn't wanted him 'influenced' by outsiders. They weren't too different to the soldiers of their own province, outside of the colour and decoration of the uniform. They even shared many of the same symbols.

Once they'd turned onto the small road Saruhiko caught sight of at least two Imperial cannons partially-hidden in the denser parts of the forest; likely there were more than that—Saruhiko would have lain at least six along each side of the route and ideally ten, if it had been him.

He couldn't say they didn't make him uncomfortable. He hardly relished the idea that the Emperor might decide enough was enough and blow away the last of his problems as soon as they were within sight; but he also liked to think he'd been paying enough attention to the chief players in the war to know that that would have been grossly out of character.

On the other hand, he also knew there was a lot Kisa and Niki strived to keep from him. Before the Battle of Seven Towers it had only been after Iwafune had casually let it slip that he'd learned a combined force of southern infantry, eastern aeronauts and an auxiliary of the Church's own troops had taken back the Black Mountains from Isana Yashiro the week before.

Niki had been within earshot. " _Hey, hey, hey, Lord Iwafune_ ," he'd said, as if trying to be serious. " _My son doesn't need to know that! It might upset him_."

Bastard. Maybe if he'd spent less time burning civilians alive for fun and more time focussing on strategic targets, they'd have kept those mountains.

But what was the point in going over all this in his head again, right when a veritable wall of armed cavalry had appeared before them? They came between their carriage and the old ruins, where Saruhiko could just see the spire of the High Priest's crown from his narrow view out the window.

"Well," said Kisa. "Here we are." She checked her pocket timepiece. "Three minutes late. Tell the driver he is dismissed from our service."

"As you wish, my Lady."

Saruhiko just rolled his eyes.

A footman opened the carriage door for him and he stepped out onto the mossy stones of the temple path. The air was thankfully fresher away from the cloud of Kisa's perfume. Spring was in the wind, and thinking of the passing of the seasons on what he'd have guessed was at least half a chance his final hours made his thoughts briefly turn to Misaki again.

He felt the wooden shell in his pocket without reaching for it, hoping the idiot and his family had made their home in one of the trading ports in the far south-east where the rebel raids had never had the chance to get to; forbidden from enlisting in the war effort so that he could help at home.

Holding his own shell every night and dreaming he'd see Saruhiko again.

Running away in the night to make the long journey back to the west when he heard of the surrender.

Running up the path behind him right now, hoping he wouldn't be too late...

Saruhiko sighed. Pure foolishness. It wasn't as though Misaki could have done anything even if he did show up, except embarrass himself.

Six of their escort dismounted to shepherd them to the Emperor's presence, as the solid block of Imperial solders parted down the middle at their approach—quite grudgingly, if Saruhiko was reading their body-language right. Kisa's pet secretary scurried out in front to introduce them, while Saruhiko dutifully took his position a step behind his mother.

He took the opportunity of being faced with the back of her head to slouch; a rather petty rebellion compared to what she'd involved herself in, but it made him feel a little better.

"Presenting!" shouted the secretary, "Lady Kisa, the Esteemed Countess Fushimi of House Westermont, and her son Sir Saruhiko, the Honourable Lord Fushimi of House Westermont."

Just as his mother stopped to kneel before their Emperor, Saruhiko allowed himself a glance upwards to see the old man and his entourage for himself.

Kokujoji Daikaku was resplendent in gold-embellished black over long golden robes, looking not younger than he was, but certainly stronger than one would have expected a man of his age to be, like he wouldn't have been too out of place leading the troops into battle himself. His eyes were focussed on Kisa when Saruhiko had his glimpse of them, but the expression was impenetrable.

Not so that of the High Priest Adolf Weismann, who stood at his right side. Newly appointed to the position after his sister's death at the start of the war, he had the distinct look of someone who would have rather been anywhere but trapped in the silver cage of his vestments and seven-spired crown, overseeing these negotiations.

Saruhiko didn't know what to think about that; Claudia Weismann's death hadn't been Niki's doing, but Isana Yashiro's, and his Holiness was hardly known for bearing grudges either way.

Far more imposing was the man on Kokujoji's left; particularly as he was staring intensely not at Kisa, but at Saruhiko, and the object of that stare quickly averted his eyes back to the stone floor after they touched upon the leonine gaze of the other.

He didn't recognise the man at first sight, but he knew the heraldry of the land enough to work out who he was: Suoh Mikoto, duke of the south-western territories whose lands shared about a mile or so of border with their own. His hair was as red as those nostalgic autumn leaves, but he still wore mourning black despite the intervening years between now and his consort's death near the start of the war.

Also Isana Yashiro's doing. But unlike Weismann, Suoh was the type to burn down anything associated with the one who'd harm one dear to him, right along with them or even after they'd died.

Still, he'd been the one to finish Niki off in the end, so he had that going for him.

 _One for, one against,_ Saruhiko thought, when he considered at the three central figures before him and mused on his chances of survival. It would depend on the will of the Emperor himself.

"Your Majesty," Kisa greeted the Emperor. Saruhiko had been told not to speak, so he didn't bother.

There was a selection of lesser lords and retainers fanning out from the Emperor's sides in what was likely the order of their importance. A Knight of the Flames, one of the highest ranks in Suoh's personal corps, was fidgeting in what for Saruhiko was an extremely distracting state of affairs, like he needed the bathroom or something.

 _Keep still, you idiot,_ he thought. _You'll ruin my 'glorious martyrdom'_.

"Lady Fushimi," said the Emperor, voice gravelly and low. "We are pleased you decided to be sensible, and discuss the terms of your surrender without any further bloodshed from your people."

"As you say, your Majesty," Kisa agreed—or pretended to. "We have all suffered far too much, thanks to the tyranny of my late husband."

Brazenly, Suoh let out a laugh and folded his arms, wristguards clinking against the lion in flames embossed onto his ceremonial chestplate; the only splash of the Suoh family red against the ebony of the rest of his outfit. The noise made Saruhiko glance up for a brief moment.

"Didn't take you long to pass the buck, did it?" Suoh observed.

Kisa appeared unbothered by this comment, which was no surprise. It took a lot to bother her. Saruhiko felt more concerned that Kokujoji didn't criticise Suoh's impropriety; didn't so much as raise a hand to still him.

Not that Suoh had the look of someone who would be 'stilled' so easily.

"We are committed," Kisa continued, as if she hadn't heard Suoh, "To the cause of restoring peace throughout all our lands in the quickest and most efficient manner possible."

"Indeed?" said Kokujoji. "What then, Madam, would you say to those who'd argue that the quickest and most efficient manner of restoring peace would be to see the heads of you, your son, and the remainder of your allies on spikes along the Mihashira Wall—next to your friend Hisui Nagare?"

As expected. And Saruhiko would rather they not go down that road, as he felt he'd spent all the time he could stand in the presence of Hisui Nagare.

"I would say, your Majesty," Kisa answered smoothly, "that cutting off a man or woman's head is rarely achieved without shedding blood."

"Rarely," agreed Kokujoji, "but I've heard on many an occasion that it is ice-water, not blood that runs through _your_ noble veins."

Ouch.

Saruhiko would say one thing for his mother though; she knew how to roll with the punches. Although, her strategy here seemed to be far more obsequious and far less threatening than she'd given Saruhiko the impression she was going to employ.

What was she planning now?

"We are all of us sufferers of the most contemptible of lies that war engenders," Kisa replied. "Your Majesty would not dare to dream what filth is said of your own noble personage in the gutters of our cities. Or of your friends."

Again, she had a point. For instance, Sukuna's death at the hands of the Imperial Aeronauts had—despite the Empire's claims to the contrary—been seen as the obvious intent of the Emperor by the people, leading to the oft-repeated accusation that the Emperor murdered children. Saruhiko for one couldn't care less how young Sukuna had been; he'd been a vicious little shit and Saruhiko was only glad that death had put an end to their engagement.

It wasn't as if there weren't plenty of children who _hadn't_ been heirs to two dukedoms who had also met grisly fates during the war—many of them intentionally so, and most of those at the hands of Niki or Isana—or even Sukuna himself.

Meanwhile, the ever more youthful-looking High Priest was generally thought to have been conducting an illicit affair with the rightful heir to the Black Mountains, Yatogami Kuroh; a boy even younger than Saruhiko—while there was no end of rumours about towns and villages on the Green Belt that Suoh had sacked and burned; raping women and Omegas, eating babies, pushing old ladies down the stairs and whatever else it was that people like him were supposed to get up to.

Again, Saruhiko cared about neither; only hoping that they hadn't lost the war to people too stupid to make an educated guess about what rumours were true concerning Kisa, and what was false.

As for the rumours about Saruhiko personally, as far as he knew there was no talk about his involvement in the war; the one rumour he knew the people did love to whisper about was false, could be proven false, and frankly didn't even bother him anymore.

It was all just words. Like those repeated now.

"Be that as it may, Lady Fushimi," Weismann cut in, sounding as youthful as he looked, "one cannot overlook the fact that guardianship of the Westermont region falls to _you;_ through your family, not your husband. It has been a long time since an Omega's inheritance was considered the property of their Alpha."

There. That was what put a little stillness into Kisa's steady breathing, before she resumed it—the idea that she would not be able to convince them that her guilt was Niki's simply by relying on the cultural perception of an Omega and Alpha's proper bond.

It seemed the Empire might have actually done their homework. What that meant for Saruhiko, he couldn't say.

"Mine are a... conservative people," Kisa said stiffly. "What is written into Imperial law is not always respected, as his Holiness well knows. However, whether I would have supported rebellion or not had it been up to me, is something I find immaterial when I consider the swiftest path to peace here in the present."

"Is that so?" Kokujoji asked. "I'm sure we would all be very interested to hear the wife of Fushimi Niki considers the swiftest path to peace."

Drier words could not have been spoken.

"Why, to see that the matter is resolved as soon as possible by providing reparations for the war to the south and the east, while giving some assurance to the north and west that the concerns they have felt have not been adequately addressed by the Empire are given some representation in the court. To that end, I would offer what financial aid the court requires—as a dowry."

Saruhiko refrained from lifting his head, but he inclined it sharply towards his mother as the stir among the assembly at her words grew. Even Kokujoji must have struggled for a reply, given the length of the pause that followed.

"And who..." he said eventually, "were you thinking of marrying, Fushimi Kisa?"

Kisa didn't pause for a moment.

"As he has lost his own consort, and his daughter is in need of a second parent, I propose to marry Lord Suoh Mikoto—"

What?

"—to my son, Saruhiko."

_What!?_

Now Saruhiko couldn't help but lurch up and look in shock at the woman in front of him. She was going to propose what!? This was her plan to secure herself in surrendering to the Empire; not to sell them Saruhiko's secrets, but to sell his womb?

 _"His worth is in his modesty, as well as our money,"_ had always been her thought in regard to him, but seriously, a betrothal—in these circumstances!

And to Suoh Mikoto at that—some southern barbarian whose people worshipped a pagan sun-god and didn't even honour the rules of succession, nor allow outposts of the Imperial Academy within their borders. Gods only knew if the man could even read! However much there was a small voice inside him saying that at least he seemed a better prospect than Sukuna had been, Saruhiko had hardly wanted his eventual husband's highest selling point to be 'slightly less repulsive than the alternative'.

It was a cold comfort that the assembled lords seemed as horrified at that idea as Saruhiko was though. It gave him severe doubts as to the willingness of their enemies to allow him to make an advantageous match, when most of them were probably hoping to see him get the old guillotine headache-cure.

That fidgety soldier who'd drawn Saruhiko's attention earlier even let out a strangled cry, and seemed almost about to storm forward and give Kisa the good shaking Saruhiko wished he had the strength or the will to give before the fat lord next to him grabbed his pseudo-winged shoulder-guards and held him back. Those wings meant the surprisingly short knight must have been 'The Crow'; the head of Suoh's vanguard of whom so many stories of valour were told.

Saruhiko would have expected to feel only contempt in the presence of such a 'hero', as if such things existed, and yet now that he was looking at the man there was something familiar about him that made him feel not just contempt, but...

"Lady," Suoh said bluntly, "don't you think you should take this more seriously?"

That made Saruhiko click his tongue. Even if it was no surprise the duke found him so undesirable, he couldn't deny the slightest sting had struck his ego.

But Kokujoji harrumphed and said, "I shouldn't worry, Mikoto—Lady Kisa is merely starting us off on the game all housewives play best: haggling. Starting with the most outrageous offer and then seeing how close to it she can keep us."

"You think I'm not serious about winning a duke's hand for my son?" Kisa asked.

"I'm sure you'd love to see the boy hand in hand with anyone as illustrious as Duke Suoh, but I'm also quite sure you'd hardly expect me to agree to a thing like that."

Suoh snorted. "So glad I have you to make my decisions for me, old man," he muttered.

"Quiet!" Kokujoji ordered, then turned back to Kisa. "It is not to say that I disagree with you in principle, though. A sign of rekindled unity in the land would not be amiss, and despite the desires of many of my court I have no wish to condemn an innocent Omega for his father's sins."

So Saruhiko was going to live after all then? Hurrah.

"I would hesitate though, Lady Kisa, in thinking a betrothal would automatically get your own life off the hook. I can assure you here and now that I will not be giving my permission for any of my loyal servants to marry _you_."

"One thing at a time, your Majesty," Kisa said, sounding a fraction relieved that he was humouring her plan, while Saruhiko tried to keep up with the rapidly changing circumstances. "As long as we agree that reparations and a marriage is the best course of action."

Kokujoji raised his eyebrows. "And what of _justice_ , for those who have suffered the savagery of this rebellion?" he asked. "Even those who were not attacked directly by your husband burned and died in airstrikes carried out in ships whose materials came from your mines, processed in your factories and welded on your fields. The same goes for the bullets that pierced their bodies and the guns that fired them."

"Justice?" repeated Kisa. She just couldn't quite keep her disdain for the term out of her voice. "Your Majesty, 'justice' is an illusion, the comfort of weak minds who cannot bear the reality of the natural order. What matters is that all the lands rightfully a part of this Golden Empire return to their pre-war state or as near as such can be managed as soon as possible."

An angry hissing noise came somewhere from the Knights of Fire, perhaps from Suoh himself but more likely from the Crow. Weismann was actually moved to protest;

"My Lady, I fear your words lack all compassion. As one who has lost her husband in this conflict, surely you can sympathise with the anguish of those who have been left with nothing?"

"Peace and reparations will serve those people far better than some empty notion of justice," Kisa said—becoming a little too dismissive if Saruhiko wasn't mistaken, as her true self managed to leap out from proprietary confines. Still, these were the sentiments Saruhiko actually agreed with, as Kisa continued, "The man responsible for said husband's death stands before me, but you don't see me making anything of it. Besides, as I've said my husband was a brute; my son and I are quite better off without him."

Ah, and the mask was back. Still, neither Weismann nor any of the others were to know of the true twistedness that had been Kisa and Niki's relationship. 'Love', even, if either of them were capable of such a thing, and why else would Kisa have allowed Niki to take such liberties, or Niki allowed Kisa such control over him when she did choose to exercise it?

Saruhiko could have told this to the Emperor and his cronies, he supposed. But it wasn't like it was any of their business.

"Hmm," Kokujoji said, peering first at Kisa and then at Saruhiko, who quickly averted his eyes. "Peace and reparations, eh? Certainly, I would not have Mikoto saddled with a new consort not of his own choosing; but take heart, Countess Fushimi, if indeed you do have one. I am prepared to see your son wear the betrothal ring of a duke."

Oh, gods. Who did Kokujoji have in mind? The list of horrors seemed to have no end in the split-second space Saruhiko had to compile one; for Kokujoji hardly gave him much time to build his suspense.

"—if a newly created one. My counter-proposal is that your son be betrothed to the Captain of my Imperial Aeronauts, and now Duke Munakata, Lord Reisi of the Moonfalls province."

If anything, that caused an even bigger stir among the crowd, and in Kisa.

And why shouldn't it have? When the Emperor decreed he would betroth the last surviving son of the rebellion to the man who—for all intents and purposes and despite a less-than-noble background, was all but confirmed as the Emperor's successor?

Kisa had hoped that by betrothing Saruhiko to Sukuna—the heir to both Hisui and Iwafune's dukedoms through family ties, she'd be setting him up to be consort to the Emperor of half the continent; but if what Kokujoji was proposing was no joke, he might have ended up sitting on the throne of the whole lot.

"What?" Suoh spoke first, his response flat-out. "Are you serious, old man? You'd thrown that guy into the bed of the son of the man who—"

"Enough, Mikoto," snapped the Emperor.

"—when he's not even here to make an objection for himself!?"

"Reisi-kun knows how to do his duty," said Kokujoji. "I have faith that he will see the prudence in this and accept." As Suoh snorted and seemed about to start another tirade, Kokujoji headed him off with a raised hand, announcing. "That will be all for the initial parlay. We will discuss the details of the engagement, and further reparations, when the sun sets. Lady Kisa. Sir Saruhiko."

With that the old man rose, and all present were compelled to bow except Suoh, who only glared and for his efforts was completely ignored. He still followed behind Kokujoji next to Weismann as the Lords made their abrupt exit; no doubt determined to display their dominance by being the first to depart, though the 'Crow' seemed flustered, and missed his cue to follow suit.

 _Kokujoji must have already been planning on making this match,_ thought Saruhiko. It was the only explanation for the swiftness at which the solution had been proposed. Munakata Reisi, huh? Saruhiko knew next to nothing about him. He was low-born, but skilled enough in combat and presumably in other matters to have risen to be heir-apparent to the Empire.

So whatever he was, he wasn't going to be easy to handle.

Kisa broke him out of his thoughts just then, grabbing onto his arm and yanking him to his feet with a look of pure displeasure on her face.

"We're leaving," she said briefly, and tugged him with sharp fingers back towards their carriage, then dropped his arm like it was garbage.

_Didn't turn out quite as you had hoped, did it, Mother? Your oh-so-noble blood joined to a commoner? Maybe you shouldn't have—_

"Wait!"

That voice. Saruhiko forgot Kisa entirely and turned around.

Hand outstretched, the little Crow's almost-covered face was pointed right at him—for a moment Saruhiko assumed to make some ridiculous 'heroic' gesture, until he saw the cord wrapped around his wrist, and the pendant that had been clenched in the knight's fist the whole time now dropped from his open hand and dangling from that cord.

A wooden half-shell, with a red glass bead in the centre. Saruhiko felt his own hand reach up for that similar wooden lump resting in his jacket pocket, without even thinking about it, eyes widening as his lips whispered the name—

" _Misaki?_ "

 

 

*~*~*

 

 


	2. The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, the author did what she always does and wrote so much that what was originally one chapter had to be split into two. There'll probably be fifteen by the time I'm done.
> 
> Anyway, this time I'm trying again to post my little image. Let's see if it works... Nope. Damn. Well, this time I can at least post a link to it, here: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Map-of-the-Nautilus-Verse-2-593396520

 

*~*~*

 

With the shell pendant that had been his constant companion for the past four years nestled against his heart, Yata approached the duke's chambers purposefully.

"I have an urgent message from my Lord, Duke Mikoto, for his grace Lord Munakata!" he called out, trying his damnedest not to tremble.

If Lord Mikoto knew what he was doing...

Heh, actually if Lord Mikoto had known what he was doing, he probably would have approved: he was cool like that. But Yata would still have been in a lot of trouble, and that might have caused trouble for Lord Mikoto as well—the last thing Yata wanted to do for the man who was equal to none in his esteem.

The guards dressed in the blue that was of both the Aerial Corps and the now broken Habari family exchanged a glance, but as he'd hoped they were nowhere near high enough in station to challenge the request of a knight, especially not a Flame Knight from Suoh Mikoto's own inner circle.

That actually pissed him off a little though; them standing aside as they did as soon as a knight approached, just because he had a few fancy medals on his chest. Even after everything, after the war and even after the those two most precious people outside his family both being nobles, the stuff they could get away with sickened him enough to still be annoyed when he saw one being bent over backwards for, even if that noble was now him.

Him—Yata Misaki. A noble.

Who'd have thought it?

The fact that the man he was about to see had been born into much the same type of family as he had had been one of the only things that made this trip a little easier; even if the now-Duke Munakata’s rise had been much higher—but then, his circumstances and the circumstances of the Midlands were very different to that of the South.

It caused feeling to rise so strongly in Yata, to imagine being in those circumstances—where the entire main branch of your liege-lord’s family had been wiped out and his lands divided enough that even low-born ‘social climbers’ were getting a piece of them—that it had made him grit his teeth all the way up the grand staircase of the Mihashira Palace. That and the other thing. But to imagine Suoh and Anna both killed; as Duke Habari had been at Himmelreich, along with Duke Kagutsu, High Priestess Weismann and even Lord Totsuka—not to mention—

No. He wouldn’t mention it. Now was not the time for that; it was for Saruhiko and the promise he’d made nearly four years ago.

As expected of a duke, the guest quarters provided by the Emperor were vast; decorated gold with blue fixings. Yata stepped into the sitting area meant for entertaining guests, but quickly caught sight of Munakata’s secretary Yoshino Yayoi poking her head around the door to the study upon hearing him enter.

She blinked at him in surprise, but unlike most of the non-Southern gentry—among whom it was likely Yoshino counted herself—there was no disdain in her eyes upon seeing the ‘social climber’.

“Sir Misaki,” she greeted, a little bewildered.

Yata cringed immediately. “Just Yata-san is fine,” he choked out, through both annoyance and embarrassment. “Anyway, I have a message for your duke from Lord Mikoto that’s of the utmost urgent… ness.” That was another thing about nobles—couldn’t talk plainly to save their lives, and despite being low-born Munakata took to it way more than most of the Southern nobles. Must have been a Midlands thing. “You know—really important.”

Yoshino didn’t make fun though. “Oh, in that case I’ll take it right away!” she said.

Not what Yata had wanted to hear.

“No, I mean _I_ have to give it to him... In private,” he added.

Much as he hated being _sneaky_ like this, he knew he had no choice if he wanted a private audience. He couldn’t possibly bother Lord Mikoto with his… personal problems, and what duke would have granted another duke’s low-born vassal his time without an introduction from the vassal’s liege-lord?

And yet, hadn’t he promised four years ago to protect Saruhiko? And hadn’t he failed up ‘til now, even though that promise predated the oaths of allegiance he’d sworn to Homra and Lord Mikoto?

The young secretary looked puzzled for the moment, but Yata’s rescue came from an unlikely source, as from the inner study a low, smooth voice interjected with—

“If it’s that important, Yoshino-kun, I expect you’d better let him in.”

“My lord?” Yoshino asked.

Munakata Reisi, Duke of Moonfalls and Captain of the Imperial Aeronautic Corps appeared in the doorway like he’d glided in on the wind. Yata bowed—though he hated to do so to anyone who wasn’t of the South—and quickly looked back up again. The duke seemed to have no knowledge of casual dress: Yata had never seen him outside of his battle uniform, dress uniform, or as he appeared now—in the formal dress of a Midlands duke, altered from how it had been worn in the days of the Habari family, but still recognisable.

_Would that be what he wore at the wedding?_

_What would Saruhiko wear?_

Those idle thoughts appeared in Yata’s head, and he felt embarrassed even more for it.

The duke was speaking to Yoshino though. “If you could please relay this correspondence to the Lady Awashima, you may take the rest of the day for yourself when she has them.”

He handed her a sealed envelope, the scent of melted wax faintly in the air as she passed by, with “At once, my Lord!” thrown over her shoulder. There’d been an odd light in her eyes as soon as the name of Lady Awashima had been mentioned—which Yata found confusing, having met the woman. He couldn’t imagine being more than fear-struck if he’d been sent to deliver her a message.

As soon as she’d left the room Munakata smiled at him and gestured towards the study.

“Shall we, Sir Misaki?”

There was that annoyance again. Surely the duke had heard what he’d said to Yoshino on the subject?

“ ‘Yata’ is fine,” he repeated pointedly. He probably should have added ‘my lord’ as well, but as Munakata wasn’t really his lord he didn’t see the point.

That wasn’t what Munakata commented on, at any rate.

“But you are a knight, Sir Misaki,” he said, and Yata had a strong suspicion the guy was just messing around. “It wouldn’t be proper to address you otherwise. Come in.”

Yata also knew enough to know he wasn’t in a position to argue with someone like a duke on this. Not if he wanted to get anywhere with him in regards to the far more important issue at hand.

But he didn’t think it was a good start to the conversation.

The study alone was the size of his and Minoru’s and Megumi’s room put together with their parents’ back when they’d lived in Westermont; and they’d been relatively well-off, living in the Fushimi family manse’s servant quarters. With a miniature library on one side and a desk bigger than the bed Yata had had in that place on the other, it was every bit what you’d expect for a duke—and these were just his guest quarters!

Munakata gestured to said desk, and the large pieces of paper that lay on the glass top, on which Yata was mildly surprised to see the man had apparently been drawing, and not careless doodles either.

“It seems that now I am a duke I must have my own heraldry,” said Munakata, by way of explanation. “Or rather my family and house must, which is why I’ve been trying to incorporate part of the Fushimi sigil into my own in honour of my new bride.”

It was only on second glance that Yata recognised in the drawings the sceptre from the old sigil he must have seen every day for most of his life, now crossed under the sword of the ancient Moonfalls coat-of-arms. There was a scroll too—on the top drawing over and behind the symbols, on the one slightly beneath it about an inch below. But Yata couldn’t read very well, and mottos were usually in the ancient tongue anyway, so he didn’t know what it said.

Odd though it may have seemed that he didn’t recognise it on first glance, he nonetheless realised that that could be laid down to the fact that the most memorable (and nightmare-inducing) thing about the Fushimi sigil was the long-fanged mandrill that held the sceptre Munakata was using. After liberating one town on the Kagutsu part of the Green Belt from Westermont troops about half a year ago, Yata and his companions had found numerous crudely drawn mandrills left behind on the sides of walls—real blood used to paint those long fangs.

Yeah. The sigil was much better off without it.

“You were from Westermont yourself originally, weren’t you?” Munakata asked him.

Yata’s hand moved subconsciously towards his pendant.

“We were well rid of it,” he muttered, even as he thought— _except for one thing_. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about that. I’m here because Lord Mikoto wants to know what your intentions are in accepting this betrothal. What do you want with Sar—with Lord Fushimi Saruhiko?”

He corrected himself mid-sentence, only to remember a split-second later that the correct term of reference for Saruhiko was ‘Sir Saruhiko, The Honourable Lord Fushimi’, (or was it the other way around? He could never remember all these stupid rules…) and in these circumstances just ‘Lord Fushimi’ to those who supposedly didn’t know him.

Hence Munakata immediately asking: “Did you ever meet my intended, when you were living in Westermont?”

There was something Yata intensely disliked about hearing Munakata refer to Saruhiko as ‘my intended’. Especially in the carefree tone he used that made it sound like he either had no interest in Yata’s answer, or already knew it.

“My mother worked in the kitchens at the main family house in Ironpeak,” he admitted quickly. “But that’s not important right now. Lord Mikoto sent me to get an answer to his question—what are you planning!?”

“Ah, yes,” said Munakata, looking thoughtfully over the drawings. “Yes, I can see where Lord Suoh, and indeed the other magnates of the realm, would be concerned about that.”

The duke pointedly referred to his fellow noble according to Imperial convention of ‘Lord Suoh’, rather than the Southern style of ‘Lord Mikoto’, and in a way that made Yata fear he also knew full well that Lord Mikoto was concerned for nothing of the sort—or at least hadn’t sent an underling to ask his questions for him.

He stood his ground, but more stiffly than before.

_Like we’d trust you upstart high-flyers._

“Half the province you now hold governance over was burned to the ground by that guy’s father,” Yata muttered, and angry as he was he had respect enough not to go into detail. “So it did make us wonder. Didn’t someone say you were going to get close to the family so you could kill them and take revenge on all of Westermont?”

That ‘someone’ being a particularly unpleasant courtier of the Capitol who’d served as technological advisor to the Emperor during the war. Of course, he’d been more concerned about Munakata gaining control of the Fushimi mines and the vast quantities of iron, tin and copper that lay therein rather than any innocent Westermont casualties, and Yata as a rule hated repeating anything that guy had said, but others closer to him had pointed out that his being an asshole didn’t mean he was wrong.

After all, who wouldn’t have wanted revenge for something like… that?

“Was it Fushimi Saruhiko who ordered that savagery?” Munakata asked casually. “By all accounts he was simply finishing his education at Ironpeak for the entirety of the war; I fail to see how there’s any vengeance to be had against him for that. Our betrothal may not be looked on favourably by the peoples of either of our provinces, but at the end of the day it will hasten the progress towards order efficiently enough, and so how could I refuse to acquiesce to such an offer?”

_Too easy._

Those were Yata’s thoughts on hearing Munakata’s brief dismissal of the concerns he’d brought up. No one could possibly feel so little in regards to their own betrothal, let alone one made with this history, and so it seemed to him apparent that the duke was hiding something.

It was strange though, that while one part of him was certain this meant bad news for Saruhiko, there was this little voice in him he was pretty sure was coming from his gut that said he shouldn’t take that as read. It made him more annoyed than ever, to have two instincts disagreeing with each other.

Just what was going on in this guy’s mind!?

“History gives us many examples,” the duke continued, “of a consort from a former enemy nation winning the hearts of their new people through their strength of character. Even now there are many who see my intended as another innocent victim of his father.”

Yata did not want to think, let alone talk about why that was. Rather he focused on the first part of the sentence and felt himself grimace—something he regretted, as Munakata picked up on it at once.

“You don’t hold out much hope for your former young master winning such adoration?” he asked, and with a smirk that pushed Yata further onto the edge.

It angered him, not the least because he didn’t know what it meant. Was this guy planning on taking his anger towards the rebellion out on Saruhiko? Or did he not have any anger—and if so, what kind of person wouldn’t? After what had happened to the duke’s own former home? There had to be something wrong with anyone who was that cold.

But Yata was nineteen now, and almost of age. He’d spent the last four years of his life mostly at war, but also at court, and he knew his own protests for the sake of Saruhiko’s welfare would have been listened to by precisely no one who could do a thing about it. Except Lord Mikoto, who was different to other nobles, but would have been going so far out of his way to help if Yata did ask that he just didn’t feel right doing it unless he knew the situation was going to be desperate.

How could Lord Mikoto have helped anyway? Apart from demanding that he be the one to marry Saruhiko, as Lady Fushimi—that heartless bitch—had originally intended… bringing him to the Southern court where Yata could be close to him and protect him… as his liege-lord’s consort…

Only, that would have been unfair to Lord Mikoto while he was still grieving for Lord Totsuka.

And yet, if it helped Saruhiko…

Well, at any rate, Yata’s options were limited. The only thing he could think to do as he’d made his way over to Munakata’s quarters had been to somehow convince him that taking anything out on Saruhiko would be wrong, and now he’d heard the basic arguments he might have used repeated back at him in such an emotionless way—along with the idea that Saruhiko might ‘win the hearts of the people’, which Yata had to admit had hardly been Saruhiko’s strong suit four years ago, and though he’d have demanded satisfaction as the nobles called it from anyone who said so in his hearing, he couldn’t imagine his old friend had changed that much.

If he had, Yata thought it might somehow have been worse. But he wasn’t giving up just yet. Munakata may have heard or realised for himself the general arguments for not holding Saruhiko responsible for what Niki had done, and maybe he’d dismissed them just as easily, but there was no way he’d already heard what Yata was about to tell him now.

“Hisui Nagare won hearts,” he pointed out. “That asshole Yukari had every girl on the other side of the Belt going gaga after him, and they thought Sukuna was cuter than a fucking kitten. Whether or not Saruhiko wins anything for you isn’t a mark of Saruhiko—it’s what people do when it’s important that counts. Those three guys flashed pretty smiles for their crowds and then flew off to murder people by the thousands.”

“And ‘ _Saruhiko_ ’ is the other way around?” asked Munakata.

Shit. Yata had forgot to refer to him by title, and the duke had pounced on that with a very knowing smirk—not that Yata had been like _that_ with Saruhiko; Omegas were for Alphas after all, and Yata had just respected Saruhiko as a person and as his (preferred) liege-lord—they were _friends_ , and while Saruhiko was very… well, he’d call him ‘beautiful’ if he didn’t think it might be taken the wrong way; he didn’t mean like that, of course—and yes, Yata cared for him very much—

He was getting off track.

"After my mother was promoted to palace staff she had me placed under her to run errands,” he said quickly. “Sa—Lord Saruhiko—” shit, that was the wrong one again… ah, who cared!? “He’d ask for stuff to be delivered to his room sometimes.” Mostly ice cream, the child—“So I knew him quite well; he liked to tease me by asking for more stuff and then sending it away and making me come back over and over, it was really annoying and he just never got tired of it—right up to the days before we...”

Even after all these years, it was still difficult to talk about leaving Westermont. For all the pain that place had brought, it hadn’t only been where he’d been with Saruhiko, but also the place of his birth. Yata pressed on regardless.

“Anyway, he was mean—some of the time, anyway. Mostly he was just the kind of guy that didn’t want anything to do with anyone else. But he wasn’t anything like his parents—I know that, because when the time came, and the moment really counted… when people needed him to come through for them…”

 

*~*~*

 

_It had all been a giant mistake._

_That's what a little voice had been saying in the back of Yata's head, crouched down in a hollow formed from the roots of a huge tree growing at the foot of Mount Hailgood with one eye on Minoru as he'd tried to raise his head over the ledge as his father and brother were doing, and one over the ledge, where a flash of movement through the leaves had made very clear that their trail had been followed by the Mutts._

_Not actual dogs, nor even soldiers in the service of the Countess' guard, these were men who as a rule were seen as barely more than animals—an auxiliary of the Regional Police Force and dumping ground for those who failed to enter that force in proper due to personality problems. The officially named 'Low-risk Fugitive Recapture Squad'._

_In the years to come, many of these same men would become colonels under Fushimi Niki's direction. But back then all they'd been were Mutts; formerly tasked with recapturing runaway slaves, after Emperor Kokujoji outlawed slavery in the outer provinces they were now responsible for bringing in any employees who 'broke contract' in regards to indentured servitude._

_Basically, the same job they'd had before, even as tensions rose while Kokujoji made his plans to outlaw indentured servitude as well._

_Yata's mother had not come to the Fushimi palace kitchens under such a contract. However, as the Countess grew more paranoid about the actions of the Emperor, it had transpired that all palace staff had had their contracts quietly amended to tie them and their families to the Countess for an 'undetermined period'._

_Basically, they'd all been made Fushimi Kisa's slaves in all but name._

_And then they'd been 'runaway slaves'. And it had been more difficult then they'd anticipated._

"That's dangerous, Misaki. My family will issue a warrant for your arrest. If my father's feeling in a funny mood, he'll string your little siblings up next to you and your parents if they catch you. If he's in an especially funny mood, you'll all burn."

_Yata's mother had been holding Megumi tightly enough against her chest to keep her from talking that the three-year-old had suddenly made a noise of protest, and seen for the first time pure fear in her mother's eyes as she'd been hushed._

_"Are you sure no one could have had any idea what we were planning?"_

_As he slipped back down beneath the roots, Yata's stepfather whispered frantically—if too late to make any difference. Yata had known Saruhiko hadn't blabbed; whatever the other boy might have said to tease him he'd trusted him enough for that, but either way it hadn't mattered with the mounted retrieval squad a few feet away from them._

_In Yata's mind it had been Niki, the so-called 'Honourable' Lord Consort who had been to blame. That nutcase had had this way of just… knowing things. To this day he still didn't know for sure._

_"Shh!" his mother had hissed, to both daughter and husband._

_This had all been a mistake._

_And at the same time, it hadn't. Because what other choice had there been? Stay and quietly serve a pair of monsters? Or try to feed them poison – as one overly-optimistic assassin had done a month before this flight – in hopes that Saruhiko would assume control of the province in their stead? Not only was that assassin's skin now decorating the walls of Ironpeak, but there was no guarantee that, as an Omega, Saruhiko would be allowed to rule even if he did inherit the titles and ownership of the land._

_Yata had always counted himself an optimist. But even he had been forced to admit the all options were limited, and dangerous._

_At least this way, even if they were caught, they'd die consciences intact._

_… was hardly much of a consolation when Minoru had whispered, "Misaki! Are they going to put us on the wheel, Misaki?"_

_The boy who'd died there less than a week ago had been a friend of one of the laundry maid's daughters, scrawling his message on the walls beneath that assassin's now-dried skin in protest of her suddenly becoming indentured—and his death gave Minoru nightmares to this day. The entire palace staff had been forced out to watch the spectacle._

_One of the other kitchen boys had teased Yata for fainting. As if that had been what had happened, rather than Saruhiko sneakily pinching his neck to make him pass out before he could do something stupid. He supposed it had saved his life._

_Would they put Minoru on the wheel? Over Yata's dead body._

_"I'm sure they'd go this way," a voice had called—their pursuers suddenly within earshot. "The father was from Greenley-on-Sea originally, right? Fish always return to the place of their birth."_

_Shit._

_"We're chasing a fish, are we?" asked another; one Yata had recognised as a frequent bully of the Courthouse cleaning staff Saruhiko had pointed out to him when they'd been in the city one time—a louse through and through._

_"Mark my words," said the first. "He'll be taking them up towards the Hailgood back-pass and try to get a canoe on the Jasper River down to the south coast – it's only a matter of getting a friendly ear to put them on a ship to Redfields, or Homra from there, and he'll have those contacts a-plenty."_

_Shit, shit, shit. Yata hadn't had to look at his stepfather to know the man was cringing; and it wasn't like Yata hadn't thought it had been a good plan, or their best shot at the very least. The main road had been out of the question once the alarm had been raised. Any road, for that matter, had been out of the question. They'd had two further options from there; go through the mines – fraught with danger, not the least of which was that someone would turn them in – or go around the mountains through the woods; the quickest route there being to get down the Jasper River somehow._

_So that had been the way they'd gone, and this was how it had ended up. Perhaps they should have chanced the mines after all, but then thinking about 'should have's now wasn't going to do them any good. The Mutts were right on top of them._

_One of the horses made a small whinny, now closer even than before, which had startled Yata's mother enough to grab Minoru by the arm and pull him to her chest alongside Megumi. His mother; usually so strong and cheerful – Yata had barely recognised her like that._

_A shuffle had made it clear the horses were almost at the tree, and while the rest of the family had shrunk closer in towards the hollow, Yata had clenched his fists and prepared for a fight. They'd be armed, he'd known that, but a good marksman would never have been relegated to the Low-Risk squad, and up close Yata was sure he could take out maybe two or three – depending on how many there were, if his stepfather helped then maybe, just maybe—_

_"What are you idiots doing?"_

_Yata's heart had all but stopped. He'd been so focused on what had been following from the way they'd come that he'd missed what had approached from the direction they were trying to go._

_And yet, that voice…_

_"Lord Saruhiko!" cried the first Mutt, horse pulling back sharply. "My lord, what are you doing out here?"_

_Saruhiko had been right in front of them, his line of sight towards them completely clear and unobstructed, but his eyes had been fixed straight ahead, ignoring them so deliberately Yata had had to wonder if the gods had made them invisible to escape pursuit, like in the old tales._

_If he'd heard what Yata had been thinking, Saruhiko would probably have given him the look he was now giving the Mutts, the 'how did you get to be this age, being so dumb?' look._

_"Well, as we're apparently now living in the age where Mutts demand answers from Countesses' sons, you may be advised that the annual review of the Hailgood Tin Mine is due, and in the course of my duties I am auditing the review." He'd clicked his tongue. "Having brought certain anomalies in the accounts to the attention of my colleagues, I'm now on my way back to town. Those bureaucrats can deal with it if they want."_

_"M-my apologies, my lord," the Mutt had said. "But if that is the case, should you not have an escort?"_

_The look on Saruhiko's face had been withering._

_"I'm fourteen years old," he'd said. "I hardly need an escort for a two and a half mile journey back into town."_

_Yata hadn't been able to see the Mutts of course, but he imagined the each of them were looking at each other with something like intimidation. Saruhiko may have been fourteen years old, and an Omega, but he knew how to intimidate those of the calibre of these men. It was one talent he had received from his parents – in the case of this style probably his mother._

_"Be that as it may, my lord," said the same man, "there are still dangerous people in these woods. My men and I have been issued with the task of recapturing five runaway slaves who have been tracked to this area – did you see anything as you came up the path?"_

_The brazenness with which the man called them 'slaves' said it all for the situation in Westermont, really._

_"Yes, I know all about that," Saruhiko had said, rolling his eyes. "Did you really think that even a group of slaves would be so stupid as to use this path to try and get south? Everyone knows how my lord father feels about such things; he's taken every precaution to block off all possible routes. Even if they did come this way they only have met up with the Commander of the Palace Guard as soon as they reached the river. Even if they'd gone any other way they would have met up with some contingent of my father's men, unless they decided to make the trek_ over _the mountain, and if they did that they'd better hope that they find a tree growing blankets and supplies as they go up because otherwise they'll freeze to death within a day."_

_Any route? All of them except the path that went over Hailgood rather than through or around it—the path of equally certain death as they hadn't had food for more than a day and nothing to contend with the icy weather up there?_

_But before Yata had been able to break through the numbness that this pronouncement had caused and into panic and rage, the thought struck him that Saruhiko's sarcastic tirade had actually been for their sakes – not the Mutts'. He had never usually got what Saruhiko was thinking so easily, but right there, right then—that had been one of those times Saruhiko would have said:_

"One hundred points,"

_And so instead of panic and rage Yata hadn't been able to help smiling._

_Saruhiko had been telling them exactly where to go._

_"Now that you're here you may as well escort me," the Omega had said, shifting the reins of his horse to make it go towards the group. "If you don't even know the movements of the other squadrons you'd have probably only messed things up for them anyway."_

_"Yes, my lord – as you wish."_

_It had been all too soon that Saruhiko's voice had gotten quieter. He hadn't glanced in Yata's direction once the entire time he'd been in front of them, but in a few seconds removed the most immediate of the dangers Yata's family were in – because the sound of the other horses had begun moving away from them as well._

_That second Mutt though, the bully – he'd held back long enough for Yata to hear him mutter "Uppity Omega bitch," under his breath, and then Yata's mother had had to reach out and dig her fingers into Yata's arm to stop him from leaping out to Saruhiko's defence._

_After all, Saruhiko would only have said that he'd been called worse by better._

_However much it stung to know that too._

_Anyway, eventually, the family had been left to catch their breath beneath the tree in the stillness of the forest, until Yata's stepfather had shaken his head and declared –_

_"We can't go over the mountain. We'd never make it."_

_Yata hadn't even had to yell at him for that kind of negative thinking: before he could cry 'What!?' and say something that would probably have gotten him a knock on the head, his mother had finally loosened her grip on the two little ones and with a sigh said –_

_"You know we don't have a choice." Then she'd paused; a tiny smile appearing on her face. "Besides, I don't know that we wouldn't make it. I think we might find ourselves surprised."_

_Traversing over Mount Hailgood had been the hardest road, probably, that Yata would ever have to travel – not the least of which because he was leaving Saruhiko behind to who knew what his parents might have done if they found out he'd helped them._

_That he'd saved them._

_Because in the end, only Megumi had ended up making it over unscathed; Yata breaking his wrist in a fall when a rock slipped and the other three losing toes to frostbite._

_But none of them would have made it at all had it not been for the pack-pony laden with supplies and winter clothing, tied to a tree and waiting for them at the foot of the path._

 

*~*~*

 

" ... and that's the real Saruhiko," Yata finished, having said all there was to say on that point. He wished he could point to some other act of heroism on Saruhiko's part for the duke's benefit, but unfortunately he wasn't really aware of any.

Well, most people never got a single opportunity to show such heroism. If that wasn't enough for Munakata then screw him.

No, really: screw him. Because he didn't miss a beat before replying –

"Of four years ago, perhaps."

Yata was somewhat taken aback with the strength of his own anger. He tried to control himself, really he did, but couldn't help the baffled "Huh!?" that charged out of him like a cannonball.

Munakata just gave him a pleasant smile, with eyes that kept his true feeling utterly opaque.

"I will, of course, keep your most uplifting tale in mind when I meet my bride-to-be—" there was that almost painful spike again when Yata heard the duke call Saruhiko that, "—but there will no doubt be other factors to consider also."

The pleasant smile shifted just a little closer to a smirk.

"You may tell Lord Suoh that I was most impressed, if somewhat surprised, to hear his concerns related to the welfare of Sir Saruhiko rather than the possibility of instability resulting from this new shift in the power dynamics of the realm." He glanced down at the heraldic designs, then back up again. "But then, of course he had a connection to him through you that the other powers do not."

Right there he was pretty much just telling Yata that he knew he wasn't there on Lord Mikoto's behalf, but for his own purposes, and like all practised courtiers he was being underhanded about it because he couldn't talk plainly to save his life; it made Yata wish he could just punch the man and get it over with.

The one thing still holding him back was how much bother it might have caused Lord Mikoto. The one thing. And his fists were trembling with the unused energy his heart was telling them to put out.

In lieu of that he attacked with his mouth.

"You think that there's anything else to take into account!? Like how many people want Saruhiko to suffer just because of something his parents did that isn't even his fault!?" he snapped. "I've said all I have to say on the matter – if you do anything bad to Saruhiko you'll fucking regret it!"

Munakata raised his eyebrows, smile never wavering for a moment, eyes if anything becoming brighter.

"That is Lord Suoh's position on the issue?" he asked.

Yata wasn't playing around anymore though. "That's what I'm telling you, high-flyer: Homra's Flame Knight, Sir Yata the Crow, and that's good enough for you! So don't go crying around to anyone if I find out you did anything and come after you – not that you'd be able to anyway!"

"My, my. I suppose I'll have to take that into account as well."

"Pfft! You do whatever you want, my lord – just remember that Saruhiko is off-limits!"

And with that said and the anger in his chest cooled just a little, Yata spun around and stormed towards the door so he could leave and get back to the 'Red' barracks with the others. He was just hoping Lord Izumo wouldn't have noticed he'd taken this little time-out from his regular duties when Munakata, unable to let him get the last word in, remarked –

"How chivalrous of you, Sir Misaki. A cruder-minded man might wonder if there wasn't some unresolved feelings left between you and my intended."

Almost tripping over the threshold, Yata came to a stop and whirled back around, wide-eyed.

"Wh-what!?" he cried. "Me and Saru... Lord Saruhiko?"

The duke grinned with pure innocence oozing from his lips.

"Of course," he said, "That couldn't be the case. I recognise that nautilus pendant around your neck as the symbol of engagement on the western coast." His eyes pierced right through Yata. "My congratulations to you and whoever has the other half."

Yata's nails dug so far into his palms he was sure he'd broke the skin somewhere; his teeth clacked together as some kind of self-preservation instinct prevented him from yelling a profanity and his heart fluttered with a sudden fear that felt like the floor had fallen in beneath him.

This was not a man to be underestimated. He'd known that when he'd come in, but he hadn't fully appreciated it until now, and he didn't know if Munakata understood the same of him.

But whether he understood it or not, he'd be in for a world of hurt if he did anything to Saruhiko; Yata didn't care how crafty or powerful he was.

So he glared, hand raising up to grip the pendant and shield it from the duke's shifty eyes as he once again went for the door. He'd said what he'd had to say, after all – if Munakata knew what was good for him then he'd remember it.

It was only once he'd passed the guards again that he almost turned back.

What was that Munakata had just said about the nautilus meaning _engagement_!?

 

*~*~*

 

The footsteps of the young knight echoed throughout the chambers for some time in their ferocity, and no sooner had they vanished than Munakata suddenly detected the faintest hint of tobacco in the air. He sighed and rolled his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

"I believe I have told you on several occasions not to smoke in my room."

No answer came from the other side of the door leading to the bedroom. Knowing the man who lay it wait there probably couldn't be bothered to answer to such a pointless statement on his part he let his shoulders slump a half-inch before opening the door and walking in.

"What's wrong, Suoh? Did my conversation with your knight upset you?"

His grace the Duke of Homra, Lord Suoh Mikoto, had taken the phrase 'lay in wait' literally: lounging on the grand four poster bed without even having taken his boots off and sprinkling ash from his cigar onto the embroidered spread. He rewarded Munakata's taunting by not looking at him when he responded.

"Nah, you can do what you want with the Fushimi kid." He puffed a cloud of smoke into the air. "But don't make fun of Yata. I won't forgive you."

With a little hiss of disapproval Munakata stalked over to the window and opened it.

"Well I'd offer my apologies, Suoh, but then he made it so easy. Or are you going to tell me you cunningly pre-arranged for one of your men to come and harass me while you were in the next room so you could gage my reaction without having to make the effort to say a few words yourself?"

Suoh snorted. "I think that's a bit too cunning for me. But that's not to say I had no idea he'd do something like this, Izumo was saying something about that at breakfast and it's not like I didn't know they knew each other. You know how Yata came to be a Flame Knight, don't you?"

"Something about being brought before you on suspicion of being a Westermont spy, immediately known for the diamond in the rough he must have been by your oh-so-perceptive self?"

This time Suoh didn't seem as amused as before.

"I happened to be passing through the camp of the legion he'd managed to get himself attached to after he'd lied about his origins," he said, resting the arm holding the cigar against his lap. "Which he only did after several times of being told he wouldn't be accepted when he told the truth. Not that that stopped him from blurting it out on the battlefield to a bunch of his former countrymen – but that's Yata for you."

Munakata came around the foot of the bed and sat on the opposite side, facing Suoh.

"Oh? But surely by then he'd proved his loyalty? I mean, they couldn't have thought he was so bad a spy that he'd yell out his Westermont origins for all of them to hear?" he asked.

"You'd think so," said Suoh. "But there they were. And since I was there, I asked around and found the truth – and yeah, I did know soon as I looked at him what was what, and he never made any secret about his knowing Fushimi Saruhiko and being close to him. I'd trust him before I trusted any other man in my army."

"Then it's a good thing you were there."

A small silence ensued, as Suoh looked out the open window and Munakata noticed something in the other man's face that made him intrigued.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Hn?"

"There's something bothering you, isn't there? Is it about my marriage? Do you indeed have secret concerns you haven't brought before me up 'til now?"

He was only half-serious until he saw no corresponding humour from Suoh, and then he shifted closer on the bed and waited for the reply.

Suoh looked at him with his own brand of intensity; like the fire his people still worshipped lived within him – Munakata was one of the few people able to withstand that fire, ever since they'd first met. Then he reached out to the bedside dresser, put his cigar on a tray and picked up the finely-crafted creamy drawing paper that had been sitting there, a smaller copy of what was on the desk in the next room. He looked down at the shield with near-inscrutable contempt.

"This is what you're going with, is it?"

"You don't like it?" Munakata asked lightly, leaning over to look at it once more. "What a shame. The Emperor was very positive about my efforts."

"Your 'efforts' are as annoyingly proper as ever," Suoh told him, now revealing more and more dislike in his eyes for what they beheld on the paper. "Who cares about that? It's the design that pisses me off."

Unusually, but not uniquely, Munakata found himself confused by his fellow duke's words. For why should Suoh have cared what the design of someone's heraldry looked like, let alone feel antagonistic towards the symbols Munakata had chosen? Was it because he'd used the Fushimi sceptre? It wasn't like sceptres didn't figure into traditional Midlands heraldry, and he'd hardly expect Suoh to care about a thing like that.

Suoh noticed this confusion of course, and had the obnoxiousness to roll his eyes.

"Fushimi sceptre," he said, tapping the drawing with the back of his fingers for emphasis, and then continuing. "Old Moonfalls sword. The motto—"

" 'We shall advance sword in hand, for our cause is pure'," quoted Munakata.

"—taken from the Imperial Aeronauts' confirmation oath. And all on a Midlands blue background."

He tapped the paper again and again with each point and then stared at Munakata like he expected him to understand something from that comprehensive list of the elements of the design.

Which he didn't.

"... and?"

"And?" Suoh's head jerked back as he rolled his eyes again before pointing them at Munakata's. "Where are _you_ in all this? You, Munakata Reisi, the founder of this House, or whatever? Something that comes from you or what you've done, instead of all this other shit."

That was Suoh's problem? How very like him to project his own self-centredness.

"Suoh, these are things that I'm a part of and that are of a part of me – with the current exception of the sceptre, but I do hold out some hope following your man's so-eloquent a defence of his old friend. It's basic humility to forego leaving the mark of my own ego on my legacy."

Suoh dropped the paper back onto the table and shifted himself to face the other man.

"Yeah, 'cause when I think 'humility' yours is always the first face that comes to mind. And I'm not just talking about the stupid heraldry either, it's only what finally pushed me into being so pissed off that I had to ask. Why the fuck did you agree to this marriage?"

Munakata closed his eyes – giving Suoh the opportunity to continue before he could answer.

"I'm serious, Munakata; a guy like you is more than clever enough to go about whatever the hell it is you're planning for the empire without having to marry some kid he doesn't even know. Some kid who's probably fucked up from gods know what, even if _those_ rumours aren't true."

"I don't think they are," Munakata muttered. "I wasn't certain about it, so during the negotiations with the Countess I suggested we forewent something as old-fashioned as a test of virginity in the interest of diplomacy, but she insisted and I don't think she'd have done so if she herself wasn't certain the boy would pass it."

The memory of those negotiations, the forced politeness and the ice everyone said ran through that woman's veins so blatantly on display to his view that he'd found it difficult – him, of all people – to be in the same room as her.

"Well, that's something," said Suoh, head resting back against the pillow. "But I still can't help but see you, opening your doors to all the little broken children of the war and trying to put them back together like your fucking jigsaw puzzles."

"Mm, what a terrible thing for me to be doing. I ought to be taken out and shot."

"I'm just saying. Even if you did fix one thing that fucker broke, it isn't going to bring back the rest."

Words temporarily escaped Munakata – a rare reprieve for them. He stared at Suoh with wide eyes.

"And before you say it," Suoh added, "yeah. Just like killing Isana Yashiro didn't bring back Tatara." He glanced away with a morose smile. "Heh. The fuck do I know about it? I just look at that design there and feel like there's a part of you you're trying to make disappear."

He turned his head towards Munakata; brow close enough to rest against his chest, and without thinking Munakata let his own head rest against that flame-red hair.

Mostly he just tried to dismiss what Suoh was saying as the duke's usual garbage: the man's grasp of continent-wide politics... or if that was unfair, his grasp of long-term political strategy was dubious at best. His province was the only Loyalist region apart from the Capitol itself that hadn't been bankrupted by the war after going into heavy debt with nations overseas to keep the war effort up; while almost all resources needed to produce the machinery of war had been in the hands of the rebels.

The Black Mountains had eighty percent of the continent's coal reserves. The western forest more than fifty percent of the timber, and the best quality of it – not to mention the western mountains had sixty percent of the iron, sixty-five percent of the tin, and crucially for the fine machinery vital to the production of the airships, over ninety percent of the copper. Even the best stone for building materials to replace those that had been bombed came from the Grey Lands.

They had the Black Mountains back fair and square, but trying to seize those other resources would have been impractical, plunging them into further economic turmoil and risking heavy losses of those same and not inexhaustible resources.

No, they needed to unify properly with the disaffected provinces, and as soon as possible. True, marriage was not the only solution, nor did it have to be his marriage, but it was the most efficient method, and every moment wasted in this matter brought pain and suffering to the people.

As leaders, they had duties, after all.

Munakata wouldn't have said Suoh didn't understand this. Only that his understanding was perhaps not as nuanced as it could have been.

And yet, he had to admit to himself if no one else... he might have understood just a little what Suoh was referring to.

"Your grace?"

The familiar voice of the nanny was followed by a light, sharp knock against the door that lead into the second sitting area and from there into the nursery. Munakata sat up at once, his shoulder slightly shoving Suoh off to the side as he stood up from the bed, smoothed his coat down and answered;

"Yes, Satou-kun?"

"Your grace, the young master wishes to see you if you are not too busy?"

Even though he didn't need to, Munakata glanced at the carriage clock on the sideboard across the room. It was several hours from when Kai would normally be brought to see him, which meant that something had happened, and since the nanny didn't mention any trouble it meant it was likely the same thing that had brought Kai to his side time and again.

He suppressed the urge to shut his eyes again and went to the door.

"I understand," he said, but did not open it. "Please send him in, Satou-kun." He turned to Suoh. "You'd better make yourself scarce," he told him lightly. "I wouldn't want my nephew to think I keep regular company with the likes of you."

With a devilish smirk that just may have cause the slightest irregularity in Munakata's heartbeat, Suoh swung his legs over the near-side of the bed, grabbed Munakata's shoulders and kissed him – briefly, but pointedly rough. Munakata accepted this with the barest tilt of his head, and his hands softly brushing the outside of Suoh's arms as he felt that smirk against his lips.

"Wouldn't want that," Suoh whispered in his ear. "Bring him down to see Anna sometime this week."

"She at least I'm not embarrassed to be associated with," Munakata told him.

Suoh gave him another quick kiss and swept out of the door without another word. Neither of them had forgotten what had just passed between them, but both were fully able to transfer their attentions when the moment called for it, and both knew this was one of those moments.

There was a much smaller knock on the door.

"Come in," Munakata said, glancing from the one door to the other.

Kai came in hesitantly, half hiding behind the open door as he pushed it forward. The fine clothes of his new duke's-heir-and-nephew station suited him, if Munakata said so himself, but he never forgot that another reason for marrying quickly was to remove Kai as a target for possible assassination.

What the future would hold for the boy then, Munakata didn't know. He imagined it would be up to Kai to decide, though it seemed a big decision now for such a small person.

The child's one good eye stared up shyly at him, red from recent tears, while the little fingers of his good hand were white around the edge of the door.

"You don't have to hang around there," Munakata told him gently. "Come on inside. I'll show you the designs I've been making for our family's heraldic imagery."

He wasn't sure if Kai would understand those terms, but he'd know what his uncle meant as soon as he saw...

The dresser was bereft of that final design.

Suoh must have absconded with it without Munakata noticing.

"What an annoying man," he muttered. Then, louder, "Never mind. The copies are still in my study – would you like to come and see?"

He held out his hand, his left, so he could hold his nephew's right should he have chosen to accept it.

Kai did, but Munakata could see in his expression, marred as it was with the scars on the left side, that even that small gesture reminded the child that his own left hand would no longer be able to take another's; damaged so badly that some of the nerves were beyond repair.

Kai didn't say anything, of course.

He hadn't, since the day Fushimi Niki's airstrike had burned their family to death.

 

*~*~*

 


	3. The Gown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my update schedule is out the window. Well, what can I say? Keeping on track's hard when you're being evicted, but what can you do? The housing situation in the city I live in is the worst. Okay, it's like... the third worst, that I know of, but that's still pretty bad. On the bright side, it does mean we're all used to this by now, however much it still sucks.
> 
> In this chapter, the author's mother's obsession with the show 'Say Yes to the Dress' bleeds through into the fic, and more horrible things happen. Squick warning for brief mention of suicide at the end, and references to general abuse throughout. Thank you for all comments and kudos :)

*~*~*

 

 

 

The most embarrassing thing about the Test of Virginity, if Saruhiko had been forced at rifle-point to choose only one thing, was probably how the High Priest Weismann was so obviously more nervous about it than he was.

"Um… yes. Uh… everything seems to be… you know, where… I mean, for the purposes…"

"How old are you, again?" Saruhiko asked him, startling the priest enough to make him shudder and snatch his hand away from where the shaking fingers had trailed down the centre of his spine.

A practiced man could tell, nine times out of ten, whether an Omega had been 'knotted' by an Alpha yet when he felt for the Venus cluster beneath the tail bone, which shifted positions to make insemination easier after a knot combined with a certain state of physical being – the most well-regarded theory among scholars was that in this and other things it was a case of chemicals being released from the brain – was introduced to the body.

This caused a lot of problems with related superstitions, of course. Saruhiko's trial had always been that, as was the case with a small percentage, having the cluster remain in the 'virgin' position after he'd started having tri-annual heats had caused him a great deal of pain in his lower back during those heats, alongside the usual discomfort.

There was a medical procedure to alleviate this pain by shifting the cluster manually, but unsurprisingly Kisa had vetoed it because it would mean Saruhiko wouldn't be able to have a Test before she married him off. Even if a doctor had been called in to give testimony instead, as was the case a lot these days, 'people' would still talk and Kisa couldn't have borne such a thing.

Nor indeed, any outburst of his that might have embarrassed her.

"Control yourself," she demanded gravely, pointing her lace fan at him before bringing it back to cover her face.

He clicked his tongue, but defence came from an unlikely source.

"Hm, why should he when it was what we were all thinking anyway?" muttered the Emperor. "Your words would be better served directed towards His Holiness."

Weismann cringed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he said. "I just hate doing this old test." He cleared his throat. "I, Adolf the Nineteenth, Lord High Priest of the Golden Empire, do declare in the sight of the gods and the witnesses here listed: His Excellency Emperor Kokujoji Daikaku the First, here in the sixty-eighth year of his reign, Lady Kisa, the Countess Fushimi of Westermont and mother of the examined, and Lady Awashima Seri, Duchess of The Lakes and nominated representative of the intended, that the examinee Sir Saruhiko, the Honourable Lord Fushimi, an Omega of eighteen years, is undeniably a virgin, pure and uncorrupted, and suitable for honourable marriage. This do I declare by the authority of the gods, in the four hundred and forty-fifth year of the Holy Slate. Amen."

He said this fast, probably to get the bad taste out of his mouth. 'Pure and uncorrupted' indeed; what a load.

"Amen," echoed the others in attendance.

Saruhiko stood up and withstood the clumsiness of the High Priest as he tried too quickly to re-button the back of his white testing gown and fumbled a few of the buttons with another click of his tongue.

"Sorry," whispered Weismann.

Seeing no point in answering, Saruhiko tried instead on keeping his focus away from the just inaudible mutterings of the assembly.

To his eternal mortification, if not his surprise, there were more than just the Priest and the three witnesses present. A selection of supposedly neutral parties, as if there could have been such a thing after the entire continent's four years embroiled in civil war, had been chosen to observe. This was customary (he was probably lucky Kisa hadn't invited half the city in to prove her point), and they were all looking at him with eyes that made his skin crawl – disgust, loathing, one creepy-looking woman appeared to be turned on by the whole thing, the freak.

It didn't take much imagination to think that they were already second-guessing the pronouncement. 'Of course, he'd have to say that, wouldn't he?' they'd say. And they were right, even if Weismann had found that little node shifted already, he probably would have lied and said it hadn't been.

But Kisa had been extra careful about that since the war started, to the point Saruhiko hadn't sat astride a horse in years.

The first comment he actually heard came from the Duchess, as she smoothed down her long overcoat, which bore the insignia of the Aeronauts as well as The Lakes.

"Well," she said. "That is a relief."

She, at least, believed what Weismann had said, or had chosen to. It made him wonder if, as she was Duke Reisi's chosen representative for this farce, her relief meant that the virgin thing was particularly important to the duke.

It couldn't have been that he was looking for an excuse to back out of the engagement, otherwise it wouldn't have been 'a relief'. So maybe he was just that old-fashioned? Or was affecting it for popularity, either way Saruhiko's virginity was important to him and that put Saruhiko in mind of a particular person at once: one who might be easy to manipulate.

He could work with that.

"Don't tell me you doubted my word, Lady Awashima," said Kisa, peering at the other woman over the top of her fan.

The blonde looked a little uncomfortable under her gaze, but not… Saruhiko didn't know how to describe it exactly. Not without confidence.

"I would appreciate not having words put in my mouth, Lady Kisa," she replied – her higher social rank giving her the privilege of using the other's first name, something that clearly grated on Kisa. "We all know children make mistakes sometimes."

"Mine doesn't," said Kisa gravely, and rather ironically considering their interactions were about fifty percent her trying to correct Saruhiko's perceived deficiencies. At any rate, she swiftly blew off the Duchess and turned to walk straight past Saruhiko. "Come along," she ordered.

There was a strange look in Awashima Seri's eyes as she observed this exchange. Saruhiko knew why his mother disliked her; after the war had pretty much wiped out the Habari family the duchy of the Midlands had had three possible heirs from more distantly related branches – Awashima, and a pair of twins from the Minato line.

Historically the Midlands had been formed out of the unification of three provinces whose borders were still intact for administrative purposes; Moonfalls, Riverfalls, and The Lakes, and following Habari's destruction the Emperor had thought it best to divide the duchy back to its three parts again, knowing that the regional authorities of The Lakes would prefer Awashima, who had more ties to that location, while Riverfalls would want the twins for similar reasons.

Moonfalls had just needed whoever was best at cleaning up big messes, really.

Anyway, this meant Awashima, who had previously only been 'The Honourable' and 'Sir' from her respective family titles and military honours, was now of a higher rank than a Countess. Very hard for Kisa to swallow.

What Awashima's thoughts on the whole thing were, Saruhiko couldn't tell. He only had a moment to glance at her troubled face before he had to follow Kisa out of the theatre.

Only, she didn't go straight back to the dressing room.

"Where are we going?" he asked her, about ninety-nine percent sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Since we have the opportunity, I want to make sure your wedding-gown fits you appropriately. Now you've passed the Test the ceremony will be in seven days, after all – and if the gown doesn't fit you can be assured someone will be whipped."

Knowing she didn't mean him didn't make him feel much better. Seven days? Shit. Though he supposed the sooner he got it over and done with, the sooner he could leave this tedious existence and get used to the devil he didn't yet know.

"Can I not get changed first?" he asked.

"What would be the point? You're only going to get undressed to try on the gown anyway."

The point was that people could see him as they passed, even flanked with the four guards his mother seemed to have joined to her hips these days – not an unwise measure, one attempt of a non-authorised person to get close to her had already resulted in blood spilled (theirs, not hers) – but Saruhiko was wearing nothing but the Testing gown.

He didn't want people… looking at him like this. It brought ill feelings to mind.

Then again there was no point in saying anything either, so he resigned himself to listening to his mother change the subject and wonder more and more if execution might not have been the easier option.

"There are those who have had the nerve to say," she was complaining, "that the preparations in the grand palace for the wedding would have been used to marry your fiancé to that tramp who dared to question my integrity just now, had you not passed the test. The nerve of such a thing; suggesting an Alpha would marry another Alpha over _my_ blood!"

Saruhiko just rolled his eyes.

"The sisters had better have listened to my requests regarding the wedding gown," his mother continued muttering to herself.

He was grateful that they didn't pass too many people, and not one of importance as they approached Kisa's guest quarters – removed significantly from his so she could entertain without risking anyone going near him before he was safely married. At the same time, and though he hated to admit it, he couldn't help but feel some trepidation.

Far from being the silly type of Omega who would have whined and cried over not having any input at all in his own wedding gown, he nonetheless had no desire to be embarrassed because of it. And while Kisa was always dressed at the height of fashion, he found himself worried for something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Until they walked into the room.

"Ah," said Kisa appraising the gown on the mannequin that had been placed in the centre of the room. "Well. It certainly measures up from here."

Her Beta right-hand Sir Cockroach scuttled to the side with his hand flourished out to present the garment. "My lady," he said. "I pray that it meets your expectations."

It was, at a glance, pretty. Saruhiko could see what Kisa was trying to do with it immediately, of course: their traditional regional colour was a deep violet with the secondary colour being black, but this high-necked silk brocade fit-and-flare was grey – a dark, charcoal grey yes, but still grey. And while flowers were thought of as old-fashioned for Omega males, the more 'in' paisley was embroidered over the whole of the gown in a single shade of grey lighter, so the wisteria embroidery that ran up one side and twined over the shoulders really stood out.

Kisa would probably say something like she thought black was too morose for a wedding, and that she wanted the flower-pattern for the sake of tradition. But it was obvious to Saruhiko she wanted the grey and the green of the wisteria's vines to be a subtle dig at the Emperor in respect of their failed rebellion. The vines were very pointedly untrue to life but very true to Hisui Nagare's banners.

That worried him slightly, not because he thought the Emperor would do more than politely ignore it, but because it meant Kisa still hoped for western independence and the subsequent authority to run their province like her own private kingdom in her black little heart.

However, what he found most alarming was a lot more basic.

"It's too small," he said. "Any idiot could tell just by looking at it."

"It won't be when it goes over the corset," Kisa dismissed him without pause, as she circled the gown and peered at it.

"Ugh."

Why had he even bothered pointing it out? Of _course_ it had been designed for the corset.

"You may be oblivious, boy," Kisa threw over her shoulder, "But while I've kept you safe in your chambers these past few weeks," for safe, read 'prisoner', "—you haven't heard what the child-bearers of the court have been saying about your narrow hips. Insolent whores." She glanced at him. "Though they are narrow enough to cause me some concern, it's not for the lower orders to comment on. They certainly won't be saying that when you're in this."

For all that he knew he was going to hate the answer to this too, before he could go to his room, change into something suitable and bang his head against the wall for the next few hours he also had to ask –

"Is it going to have sleeves when it's done?"

Kisa snorted. "Not with the giltvine that's going with it."

Oh for fuck's sake. A giltvine too? Of all the stupid fads she could have jumped on… Saruhiko had seen drawings of those in fashion magazines and catalogues – not that he liked looking at that shit; Imperial troops had taken advantage of their dreadfulness to pass coded messages within them – each one more ridiculous and peacock-ish than the last.

They'd mutated from the traditional bride's tiara: some idiot deciding it would be a great idea for metal to come down around the bride's ears and become a necklace too, and then from there further iterations had had gold and silver plaited down an arm, or both arms, or in one ludicrous case the whole body, sometimes with metal flowers, birds, spiral cages, anything that might sparkle from a distance, but how the fuck were you supposed to move!?

"Would my lady like to see the giltvine she commissioned?" asked the secretary.

"That's finished too?" remarked Kisa. "Even with the material having to be outsourced? They did work fast. Is it in that box?"

Saruhiko saw the gold-painted box with the mark of the maker all the most vapid girls and Omegas longed to wear produce from. He forced himself to keep looking even after Kisa lifted the lid and revealed…

What was _that_?

"Oh, yes, this is exactly what I wanted," said Kisa. "I shouldn't lift it out now because it's that delicate, although we do have the spare, don't we?"

"We do," said the secretary.

"Good. In that case perhaps we should try for the whole ensemble, right now?"

Saruhiko couldn't hold in his opinion any longer.

"It's _glass_ ," he pointed out. Even though he knew Kisa had probably realised this he had to say so so that he could have some hope of getting an explanation for it.

Was this supposed to be a model of the giltvine she was having made for him? If so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, lying in the soft pink velvet cushion the giltvine clearly only had the one arm, and was sculpted with glass tendrils and inset with purple pearls that vaguely resembled the embroidery on the gown, close to the body of it so his groom wouldn't have to navigate a labyrinth in order to find an angle at which he could kiss him.

But if this was what Kisa actually expected him to wear then she was insane as well as a twisted bitch.

"Exactly," she said, to Saruhiko's horror. "Something that has never been done before. Everyone will be talking about it. Now take that ridiculous shift off and let's get this over with."

"What, in front of him?" Saruhiko asked, half-incredulous, half-already resigned.

Within that resignation was dread though. Humiliating as the Test had been, it had only exposed his back to the witnesses and whatever else his faults Weismann had made an effort to preserve his dignity. He did not want to stand fully naked in front of some spineless idiot, standing there and gawping at him.

… not again. The thought disgusted him.

"Don't be a child," Kisa spat at him. "If you can't stand being naked in front of a stranger, how are you going to get through your wedding night? Your groom's a gardener's son, I doubt he'll be persuaded to adhere to the nobles' convention for conjugation. Most nobles don't bother to adhere to it anymore."

Another thing he was _so_ looking forward to – though he supposed he at least wouldn't suffer from heat-pains after he was knotted.

Either way, he wasn't undressing in front of that slime.

"Fuck off," he muttered.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before his mother's hand connected sharply with his face.

"Do not think you can speak to me like that without consequences," Kisa said, and while she sounded emotionless Saruhiko could see the anger in her eyes at being disrespected. "Guards!"

Fuck.

Every cell in Saruhiko's body urged him to run, but for some reason he was staying perfectly still, right there in his mother's rooms as the guards stormed in from where they'd been waiting outside and came right for him; as if they'd known already what was going to happen before she'd called them, and for all he knew they had.

It was weak, so weak of him to stand there and tremble when the strong arms grabbed each of his. To stare ahead at Kisa's barely perceptible smirk and feel himself retreat like he wasn't going to stick around in his own body for this further humiliation.

"Now, boy, you will have to undress in front of all these low-born guards as well as my secretary. Fortunately you're hardly the type to make them lose their composure, and I will have the tongues of anyone who speaks of this, but even if you do not learn your lesson you will at least suffer for your insolence."

Still shaking, Saruhiko managed to choke out: "I'll be sick. I swear to the gods; I'll be sick all over that fucking gown."

"You will not," said Kisa. "You will keep your composure, and a civil tongue in your head, otherwise…"

If Saruhiko had thought that this situation couldn't have feasibly got any worse he was proven wrong when Kisa reached into her pocket and pulled out a leather cord…

… and a half-shell wooden pendant with a blue bead in the centre.

His heart all but stopped.

"You went through my things!?" he gasped, voice low in its horror.

"Your things?" repeated Kisa. "You consider this garbage; a peasant's trinket, a worthy possession of my son; a duke's consort, and possibly an emperor's? Ridiculous."

There was a roaring fire in the room. Kisa walked towards it casually, holding the pendant out.

As much as Saruhiko still felt disconnected from his body, the memory of the autumn leaves and Misaki's smile reflecting in that bead, the same lips that had called out to him back at their surrender negotiations before Lord Kusanagi had pulled him away, the one thing connecting him back to the one person that made him want to believe however stupid it was that the myth of those pendants might actually work – all burned up in the flames Niki had consigned any other possession of his he'd had the slightest attachment to…

He couldn't bear it. He struggled against the Alpha guards' hold and cried out.

"No, no, Mother, please! Please don't!"

Kisa stopped with the wooden shell dangling before the shadow the flames cast against the back of the fireplace. She turned her cold, burning eyes on him.

"Pathetic."

It was. But he couldn't help it.

"Please, I'll put the gown on, I'll do whatever you want, just please let me keep it, Mother, please!"

Snatching up the pendant, and rolling those icy eyes, Kisa glared at him and said, "I'm not Niki, boy – I don't throw away advantages for petty amusement. If you're weak enough to allow yourself to be manipulated for the sake of this trash you can be assured I'll take full advantage of it."

Saruhiko sagged against the guards' arms, breathing heavily. He felt faint and furious with himself for putting on such a contemptible display of, as Kisa rightly called it, weakness. He should have burned the pendant himself years earlier. He never should have fucking taken it in the first place.

If only.

"You will try on this gown and this giltvine now, without argument, and you will remain perfectly still throughout. You will marry the duke and spread your legs for him with just as little argument and a perfect performance at the ceremony, and if you manage to complete these tasks you may have your filthy trinket back. Otherwise it goes into the flames. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," the lifeless words came out towards the floor.

"Yes, who?"

So, she was going to take it that far. "Yes, my lady Mother."

"Good. Take that rag off him, now."

Shutting his eyes did little to block out the sound of the gown tearing as it was ripped down the back, and the sound of buttons falling to the varnished floor echoed through the room. Honestly he would have rather worn the fucking Testing gown to the wedding; he could move in it and while it looked pretty pathetic it also did less to bullshit everyone.

_'Here's your virgin, just lift up the cover and have at it!'_

He didn't bother to ask for underwear as the sleeves were roughly pulled off his arms and the whole thing crumpled to the ground, Kisa was proving her point and his request would be denied. Better to pacify her by being seen and not heard, though the Cockroach approached to cover his abdomen with a plain white corset seconds later.

The guards stepped aside to give him room. They could clearly tell by now that Saruhiko was going to cooperate, and cooperate he did, hating himself for it. He stood there and resisted the urge to cover his groin with his hands – what was the point? It would only make him look even more weak – while the laces were pulled through the holes in the back and he prepared himself for the pain.

And it was worse than he had been expecting.

Saruhiko had worn corsets before, of course. Kisa wouldn't have let him within a mile of his previous fiancé without one, not that that had done much to dissuade the little shit from pointing it out in his mocking whine, along with _'I can't believe Nagare is going to make me marry an Omega who's older than me!_ ', and other such low-hanging fruit he could insult Saruhiko with.

_'When we're married I'm going to keep you all alone in a little room in the palace and feed you twice a day until you get pregnant, and once you've given me a few kids – if you even can – I'm going to let you stay there until you slowly starve to death and tell everyone you died in childbirth.'_

As if Saruhiko would have given him kids 'all alone'. Idiot.

But this time he hadn't been breathing properly even before the Cockroach started lacing the corset up. After the laces were pulled he felt ironically like the pendant _was_ keeping him alive; because if he had fallen down and died Kisa would have burned it. That'd teach him to disobey her.

Black spots appeared before his eyes nonetheless, every time the bastard pulled his strings. Kisa sat on the other side of the room with one leg crossed over the other and the hand holding the pendant resting on her lap while the other held her fan up to her face.

He couldn't stand to look her in the eye as if he was being defiant when he was capitulating like this. It was stupid.

But when all was said and done, the wedding gown just about fit.

"It seems a little long," said Kisa.

"With the heel on the shoes it will be perfect, my lady," said the Cockroach.

"Good. Now the giltvine."

Putting on the giltvine, something Saruhiko hadn't worn before, was somehow even worse. There was one hinge, hidden by a pearl cluster by his ear, and the 'sleeve' part was difficult to get his arm through, though not impossible. But it was only when he touched it that he realised how thin the glass was.

Most giltvines had the 'attraction' of the metal cage they were pretty much composed of holding a bride within a certain posture because they were too stiff to move. This glass one was just as inflexible, obviously, but it wasn't strong enough to hold Saruhiko into a specific posture. Instead Saruhiko was compelled to retain this posture on his own because if he moved too much the giltvine would shatter, and probably cut him to pieces.

" _Blood colours glass blood-red, so you can't tell the one from the other,"_ Niki had once told him, dropping champagne flutes between Saruhiko's bare feet and the fireplace he'd had his favourite book suspended over. " _No one will be able to tell the difference if any of the shards get into your skin, so if you really want your book back, you'll have to tread very. Carefully._ "

He suddenly wondered if his new husband would let him have another copy of the same book. He hadn't had the guts to walk forward and get the old one back, choking on the smoke from the curling pages. Niki probably would have burned it either way.

So there he was. He couldn't move and he couldn't breathe. This ceremony was going to be great.

"The collar of the gown needs to be tightened," Kisa remarked. "It's supposed to go _beneath_ the giltvine."

After all that, she didn't even look impressed. Saruhiko couldn't help but see her out of the corner of his eyes with the giltvine pulling his head up. It was painful.

But he had nothing to say.

"I have had both his lordship's photograph and his portrait sent to the recommended beautifiers for their opinion, my lady," said the secretary. He pulled a folded piece of white card from inside his jacket and handed it to Kisa. "They have prepared a selection of ideas for the hair and makeup."

This just got better and better. And even though it had to have been less than a minute since the ensemble had been completed, Saruhiko could already begin to tell just how utterly unbearable it was going to be to spend hours trapped inside so many potential sharp edges, as the muscles in the back of his neck began to feel the strain of stillness. It was like he'd be having his wedding with a knife to his throat.

Kisa only glanced at the card. "Call them in as soon as possible – tomorrow at the latest, any ideas they have I want to see in practice first." She paused. "Although, that does remind me. Guards, leave us."

They did so in three seconds flat. Saruhiko should have been relieved, but in truth he no longer cared how many guards were in the room. He was going to have to get used to being no better than a mannequin for everyone's enjoyment anyway, and on his life that was all the enjoyment any of them would ever get from him.

Except for his soon-to-be husband, presumably. Sukuna had always proclaimed the idea of sex with him 'gross', but since that had been the one thing they'd agreed on, Saruhiko hadn't cared. For this one…

Lie back and think of Westermont, he supposed.

Actually no, he hated Westermont. It would probably end up being less unpleasant to concentrate on the sex: most Omegas supposedly enjoyed the sensation, especially around their heats.

And his was due soon.

"Is it possible for you to get your head in the here and now, boy?" Kisa asked him, sharply and to his wandering mind, suddenly.

He looked up at her, hoping his hatred was getting through the expression of indifference he'd forced. Though she'd hardly have cared.

"Good," she said. "Now, I'd like to think even you'd take some time out to wonder, from whatever childish fantasies you waste your time entertaining, why Munakata Reisi has accepted the Emperor's plans for your betrothal."

"I imagine he wants the mines," Saruhiko replied in as bored a tone as a suffocating person could manage. "And probably more than that to please the Emperor so he can be officially named his successor." He clicked his tongue. "What I don't understand is why the _Emperor_ wants the match. Doesn't it make more sense to marry me off to Suoh Mikoto and avoid a Fushimi eventually sitting next to the Imperial seat?"

The only explanation Saruhiko had been able to come up with was that Kokujoji thought it would be improper to marry him to the man who killed his 'beloved' father.

But Kisa frowned like he was hardly worth her time. "Think, boy," she nearly snapped. "The call for independence of the outer territories hasn't died just because we lost the war, and such sentiment is just as strong and stronger in some parts of the south. Even Suoh's allegiance only swayed as it did because that idiot killed Totsuka Tatara. How do you think Kokujoji sees a possible marriage between the least reliable of his dukes from the territory whose loyalty is the most dubious, and what could arguably be described as the last surviving member of the defeated rebels' own royalty?"

'Arguable' referred to an argument Saruhiko detested, as it reminded him he had almost been married to that ridiculous loathsome brat. _He_ certainly didn't see himself as a member of that 'family'. And Niki had only supported the rebellion in the field while Kisa poured money into their pockets, their presence in rebel governance had been practically nothing and limited, respectively.

But he knew Kisa had a point about any union between him and Suoh being a focus for anti-Imperial sentiment. A pity, as marriage to the heir-apparent would mean living in the Capitol, or at the same old hated house so his new husband could oversee _his_ new acquisitions.

Had he married Suoh, he would have been in Homra's court, and right by...

Or maybe that would have been even worse than being away from him entirely.

"In some ways this is preferable," Kisa allowed, averting her eyes so that he knew these 'ways' were hardly enough to keep her happy. "It will relieve us of the necessity of disposing of that bastard girl. Munakata has a nephew, of course, but that boy will not be kept as his heir once he has children of his own." She gave Saruhiko a pointed look, fan extended towards him. "You must provide him with them as soon as possible."

Saruhiko didn't know which point to mentally unpack first; the idea that he'd have any control over when he'd 'provide children' for his new husband left him quite bitter, but the casual reveal that Kisa had planned to murder, or more likely have _him_ murder, Suoh's bastard daughter Kushina Anna, had the betrothal been to him instead, was temporarily driving all other thoughts from his mind.

Enough that it must have shown on his face.

"Don't look at me like that, boy," she told him. "Suoh had the girl declared his heir, and according to the depraved customs of the south, that position would not have been displaced by any child of yours."

Which was not to say his head would not have been displaced from his shoulders once Suoh realised who had done away with his brat. The whole world knew how he'd reacted when his former consort had been murdered, and while the man didn't appear to have an intelligence as sharp as the spikes on his battle-mace, he had friends who were famed enough for their cunning.

"One wonders," said Kisa idly, "how pathetic Totsuka Tatara must have been – to accept a child that was not his as his husband's heir, and not even try to have one of his own. And he came from a good enough family. Had the duke done his proper duty a child between him and Totsuka would have had a superior claim on Redfields after Kagutsu's death, and Suoh could have had command of the whole of the south, rather than letting half of it slip into Kusanagi Izumo's hands."

Or maybe, Saruhiko thought, none of them gave two shits about any of that. He couldn't have said so with any certainty, of course, he didn't know any of the above or even know much of them thanks to his _stupidly_ sheltered upbringing (though he had a fair idea of how Kusanagi coded messages – cleverly, but not as cleverly as he thought he did), but he figured if he felt that way then there was no reason anyone else shouldn't.

Meanwhile, the pain from what he was wearing was spreading down his back and through his left arm – the one encased in glass tendrils. Fuck. He wanted to at least try to walk so he would not be so still, but that thought also made him nervous because he didn't know what might or might not break the giltvine.

If this got to be too bad at the ceremony he was going to start to shake, and if he couldn't stop himself shaking, the cage was going to break and cut him anyway.

Though really, why did he even care about that either?

"But no matter."

Saruhiko wished he could say Kisa's voice broke him away from his thoughts, but in truth the stark discomfort made it so that he was only half listening when she went on:

"Speaking of it, do you know about Munakata's nephew?"

"No, Mother," he said, breathing as heavily as he could with his ribs so constricted. "But I imagine he's as low-born as his uncle the gardener's son."

Kisa snorted. "Oh, Munakata's father was not but a simple gardener," she declared, in a tone that made it clear she thought it stupid to consider any gardener anything but simple.

Then she paused again, looked straight into his eyes and smirked in such a way that it made him wonder just how close she'd been to Niki. They'd been cousins, of course, but he meant 'close' in a different way when he saw that lip move.

"He was the head gardener, in the palace at Tenrou Point."

_Tenrou Point_.

Fear followed shock when shock made Saruhiko's arm jerk and might have shattered the glass for all he put his trust in it. However, relief did not come when the giltvine held, because he realised immediately what must have happened.

_"I'm so very proud of you, my son…"_

That voice. That awful voice was never going to leave him alone, and this proved it.

He took as deep a breath as he could manage, and choked slightly when the corset decided he'd had too much oxygen there.

"Niki burned down Tenrou Point," he said dully.

"He did," said Kisa. "I'm glad you were paying at least that much attention."

How could he not have, considering…

Well, it solved one mystery anyway. Everyone had always been so shocked and impressed that Niki had figured out Tenrou Point had been one of the secret major storing houses the Midlands had used for winter grain. They'd known they'd existed, but scour as many dreadful magazines as he'd wanted Saruhiko had never found any mention of them in Imperial coded missives. How then, had the great Fushimi Niki figured out such a vital secret?

The now clear answer? He hadn't. He'd just found out that Munakata, who had defeated him and sent him packing during their previous encounter, had had family living there. The grain storage unit had been a lucky coincidence for a petty sadist.

"Both your betrothed's parents were in the gardens when it happened, so the story goes," Kisa went on, and as she did she reached over to the desk she was sitting beside and opened the nearest drawer with a key she took out of her pocket. I don't know if they were too stupid to leave or too smart to think trying would make any difference. The nephew's father was the duke's older brother, and he and his wife and children made it to the bridge across the Agate River."

Along with about three thousand other people, resulting in an inevitable crush. Fewer than a sixth of that had made it to the other side, the reports had said.

"The brother and the older child burned on the bridge with the rest," Kisa said. She placed something from the drawer on the desk; a silver, etched container about three and a half inches in diameter. "But when Niki dropped the firestorm one of the supports collapsed and the bridge lurched to the side – several people were thrown off the railing into the river including the wife and son. A garrison from the Church pulled them out of the water, the woman died a few days later of her wounds, but the boy survived somehow – if not exactly intact."

She looked up at Saruhiko.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I'm finding it difficult to manage in this getup," Saruhiko said honestly, and wishing he sounded more sarcastic than he had desperate.

"Well get used to it and get a hold of yourself: it was no small feat to get this into the city." She nodded towards the container. "Do you know what 'white ointment' is?"

He did not. Frankly he was still trying to parse the information about Munakata. The whole family but one had died at Niki's hands? Even to get to the Imperial seat, it seemed a step too far to marry That Man's son.

Assuming Munakata had liked his family; he had at least adopted the nephew, and was living with him, but who knew anything for sure?

Kisa stood up and brought the container before him. The etchings were in a spiral pattern with a swan and a guitar at the centre – symbols relating to the epic romance poetry of the east. That wasn't a good sign, and Saruhiko was beginning to fear his mother had procured him an aphrodisiac of some sort when she explained its true, and by this point unsurprisingly, even worse purpose.

"It became popular around these parts just before the war broke out and unfortunately never had the chance to make it west. Use too much and the skin on your face will start to die and then so will you, that's why Kokujoji banned it. But used sparingly it will remove any visible trace of bruising or reddened skin – without making you look like you're wearing a plaster mask."

He still didn't get it. Was he supposed to use it on the red marks he'd no doubt have once the corset was removed? Because if 'white ointment' came with a 'danger of death' warning attached he'd much rather have waited for the bruises to heal by themselves.

"You're being dense, aren't you?" Kisa accused, and he supposed he must have been. "Think. The duke is low-born scum and your father killed his family. What attraction is there for him in marrying you other than to spend his leisure hours exacting punishment for that? The man will likely start beating you before the doors to the bridal suite are even shut."

Oh.

Well. It did make sense.

"But I will not have you seen with your face like a marble block and let people think that a member of my blood would play punching-bag to a gardener's son. So, use the ointment wherever the marks show, at least for as long as we're in the Capitol. If luck is on our side, this marriage won't last long."

Yes. Yes, surely that would be very lucky. He supposed it meant Kisa was planning on killing Munakata too, as soon as there was a child to stick on the seat of the Moonfalls duchy, but at this point his ability to give a shit was gone.

It seemed it didn't matter whether or not he _did_ play punching bag to a gardener's son as long as no one actually thought it, but how could that be surprising when Sukuna had once said in all seriousness he was going to break Saruhiko's fingers one by one if he ever tried to correct his coding mistakes again, and been met with only laughter from everyone else, like he was as cute as all the girls said.

Maybe he had been. Maybe that was just what 'cute' was in this world, and Niki and Kisa had always been excellent and loving parents to him. She certainly seemed to think so.

"Keep that on for an hour to start with," she said. "And keep in mind that when that hour is up your trinket will be in however many pieces the giltvine is."

Somehow her eyes grew even colder looking at him.

"One day, you will understand that all this is done for your benefit. Or you will continue to defy reason and crash and burn." She paused. "Have you nothing to say?"

"Yes, my lady Mother. Thank you, my lady Mother."

"That's better. I'll be back in an hour."

And with that, she left.

The corset and the strain of stillness didn't seem to hurt so much now.

Saruhiko's thoughts were far away.

 

*~*~*

_"You did it again!"_

_He remembered how his tongue had seemed sore from the constant clicking that day._

_"I've done what again?" he'd asked._

_"All this stupid shit with the more fuel-efficient engines! You do it to make me look bad in front of Nagare! You want him to give you the responsibilities he's supposed to be giving me!"_

_Saruhiko had always tried to remain as far removed from Hisui Nagare's attentions as he possibly could. Not that they'd ever had an incident, but he'd lived with Niki long enough to have that kind of instinct about the man; anyone who could convince their people that they were fighting for freedom, when the primary purpose of that freedom was having the freedom to practice slavery again, was not only morally indefensible, but also dangerous._

_Not that Saruhiko cared about the poor little slaves, or anything. Except for maybe a few. But whether he cared or not, it was still wrong._

_Later, he'd come to realise that Hisui's plans for the running of the lands in question delved far deeper into insanity than he had ever imagined then. But at this point, he had just been trying to get back to his room and away from Sukuna._

_"If you want to do something to impress Hisui, then do it," he'd muttered. "Beat me to the finish line. If you can't, it's your own fault for not measuring up."_

_"What!?" Sukuna had spat at him. "Don't talk to me like that, you past-your-prime Omega!" somehow through his rage he managed to smirk. "Nagare says that when I marry you he'll let me break your jaw if you talk back to me. So you'd better watch yourself."_

_Any apprehension about that unhappy future that Saruhiko might have felt had been easy to set aside back then. He'd laughed and looked out over the edge of the balcony they'd been standing on at Hisui's Jungle home; the Lightningfort palace. Down in the courtyard, the airships whose engines he'd designed had already been assembled with their banners fluttering in the night wind._

_"Nagare will 'let you', will he?" he remembered saying. "Are you sure you'll be allowed to break my jaw if you have to stay up past your bed time?"_

_Sukuna had lashed out; small but fast and already Alpha-strong he'd grabbed Saruhiko at the wrist and beneath the elbow like he'd been about to break his arm – probably wasn't tall enough to reach the jaw yet, the shrimp – and put enough pressure that Saruhiko had suddenly been afraid that that was actually how it was going to end up._

_But then…_

_"Hey, hey. What are you darn kids getting up to over there?"_

_With a silly voice put on ironically, like he was telling a bedtime story to a child, Niki had come from nowhere, around the corner and into the scene like a miasma._

_As afraid as he'd been a second earlier, Saruhiko had only been more so once Niki had appeared. Knowing him, he was there to give Sukuna tips on how to properly torture him. None of this obnoxious physical pain crap._

_Only the slow burn that spread rot and sickness into his mind._

_But Sukuna had dropped his arm._

_"What are you doing out here, Sir Niki?" he snapped, rolling his eyes._

_Niki had grinned. "Well, I heard yelling," he'd said. "And I was worried someone might be in trouble. What do you have to say for yourself, young man? That's no way to treat an Omega, and certainly not your fiancé."_

_Should he have treated him worse, Saruhiko had wondered. What came next had surprised him._

_Sukuna had clenched his fists. "Then you should have raised him better!" he'd declared. "He disrespected me! He owes obedience to me and loyalty to the Hisui family, and he does nothing but disrespect me! If you don't want Nagare to call this wedding off—"_

_The long, loud laugh from Niki had cut Sukuna off; the boy staring as Niki slapped his own leg with mirth and gave him his most predatory of looks._

_"Sorry," he said. "I just thought of something funny."_

_For all he'd been a little shit, Sukuna had not been stupid enough not to recognise the bigger monster with the way Niki had been looking at him then. His back had straightened, he'd choked out, "Nagare is going to hear about this," and then he'd turned on his heel and marched back into the inner palace._

_Before Saruhiko had been able to let himself entertain the notion that Niki might have actually been defending him there, the man had put a hand on his shoulder, gripped it hard enough that he couldn't have ducked away, and sighed._

_"There, there, pet. I'm sure he'll grow out of it."_

_From a sane man, it might have sounded halfway sincere. Saruhiko had just been left staring, as Niki turned his gaze out onto the same airships._

_"Ahh. I am so very proud of you, my son."_

_Saruhiko remembered how long it had felt, standing there and waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Niki to point out some deficiency in the design that he'd overlooked. For him to say that someone else had done it better. For him to declare the gesture worthless because they were going to lose the war anyway._

_Niki, as always, had had a much harsher drop than any of that in mind. But despite all the years Saruhiko had spent dancing to his tune, he'd still allowed himself to be lulled into that sweet sense of security._

_"I don't think there's a mind in the west as sharp as yours, sweetie," Niki had said, still sounding like he was being serious. He'd snorted. "Definitely not in Hisui's deluded cabinet, you deserve much better. I'll have a word with your mother about seeing you married to someone else when the war is over."_

_The worst part was, looking back made Saruhiko believe that Niki actually_ had _been being serious with these words, though he hadn't believed it at the time._

_"A forty percent increase in maximum distance and a twenty percent increase in maximum speed," the man had continued. "We'll be able to get right into central Midlands territory even coming in from the north, and if I can convince Kisa to let us launch from Ironpeak we just might reach the Capitol - and get back faster than they can chase us down."_

_"The increased speed and distance can't be used in conjunction," Saruhiko had found himself saying, nervous, but somewhat excited however much he tried to hide it. "At maximum speed it will only go half the distance before the fuel runs out, even with the improvements, and it will all depend on what kind of wind you get –"_

_Niki's fond-sounding laughter had made him trail off, even as Niki turned to face him, now with both hands on his shoulders._

_"Come on, don't go all modest now, pet – not in front of your father of all people, the guy who's going to tell everyone, 'see those beauties? My kid designed those,' as soon as it's safe to. Hell – I know fucking Hisui won't be hearing the end of it from me for a while."_

_He'd paused for Saruhiko to take that in._

_"Saruhiko. This is amazing."_

_How stupid did such an 'amazing' mind have to be in order to believe those words? How utterly brainless, after so many years of learning what the man before him was._

_And yet, he had to admit Niki had actually meant it that time. Up to then only one person had ever said anything like that to Saruhiko, but to hear Niki say it then, and mean it – and he hadn't even cared about the outcome of that stupid war; all he'd wanted was for someone, anyone, to realised he had some worth other than Kisa's money._

_That he could do something. One thing to make things change just a little…_

_Niki had pulled him close, and whispered in his ear._

_"I am going to kill so many people with those ships."_

_And just like that, the bubble burst._

 

*~*~*

 

Tenrou Point had been Niki's first target after that. Saruhiko supposed it meant he'd had all this coming.

Still, it was important he got through the wedding – that he got the nautilus back so he could return it properly, and tease Misaki for having betrayed his brainless peasant nature to become a knight.

Then, when it was over, he could go up to the bridal suite, lock the door, break the giltvine apart and use the shards to slit his wrists.

In the world he lived in, he'd consider that a very good wedding.

 

*~*~*

 

 


	4. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I have now moved house - so updates will be more regular, right?
> 
> Wrong! It's April, and that means Camp NaNoWriMo for me. Also there's just generally me being me. But this chapter had to be cut up due to length (what else is new) so a substantial amount of the next is already written.
> 
> In this chapter, the chapter title kind of gives the game away, and Suoh gets his first ever POV from me. Enjoy!

*~*~*

 

 

Mihashira Palace was an overrated, over-glitzy, over-pompous piece of crap, and Suoh Mikoto; Duke of Homra, Commander of the Imperial Infantry and holder of a bunch of other titles and honours he couldn't be bothered to keep straight, wanted nothing more than to return to the halls hollowed out from the extinct volcano of Mount Ashrock as soon as possible.

More booze and less bullshit – those were his main reasons for wanting to get the hell out of dodge, and not because he didn't want to see Munakata Reisi get married to some kid he didn't even know because some old fart told him to and Munakata was stupid enough to think that meant something.

And sure, that _was_ another reason he wanted to leave. But that was because he felt embarrassed for the sake of his comrade-in-arms, and not because he was jealous.

Because that would be stupid. Even if Alpha males could marry each other under the law, he and Munakata would only have killed each other within a week.

"Mikoto…"

He glanced down at his daughter's wide eyes, looking searchingly at him.

"Hn?"

She gave him a small smile. "Don't worry, Mikoto. The ceremony won't last too long."

"Nn. Shouldn't you be calling me 'my lord father' or some such shit? We're in a fancy place."

Anna only giggled. At her right side, little hands clutching the rim of the marble balcony, Munakata Kai turned his head a little stiffly to look at them with something like a smile of his own. Suoh leant back into his chair.

"… get no respect around here," he muttered, which made Anna giggle again just as a loud and obnoxious drum roll began in the orchestral pit below them.

The sudden noise reverberating around the high, vaulted ceiling sent Kai flying back from the rail with a gasp. Anna quickly grabbed his hand so he could bury his face in her arm for comfort, and even Suoh flinched a little. Damn things sounded like they were getting ready to do battle – no wonder they spooked the poor kid.

He and the children sat high up, in a box overlooking the aisle that had been fashioned from a roll of carpet and seemingly endless rows of ornate chairs lining either side. That they were there was for Kai's sake, as even before the fire he'd been a shy child – Munakata had gently asked him where he'd like to be during the ceremony, and somehow the two of them had decided on this arrangement.

Or, as Munakata had put it when it had seemed Kai looked guilty about not taking part in the ceremony as the groom's closest kin: _"We'll need to keep Lord Suoh out of the way and under careful watch so he doesn't ruin my wedding by breaking wind."_

Even Mikoto had cracked a smile at the time. But now, watching the scene below the whole thing was almost painful to look at. He'd heard some idiot say that he'd no doubt be reminded of his own wedding to Tatara years prior by attending this one, and get all emotional or some such shit, but in fact the exact opposite was the case here.

He was getting angry. Angrier by the second, and only the presence of the kids was going to keep him from walking out before the whole stupid thing was over. But it wasn't because he was reminded of his own wedding.

It was because this was nothing like his own wedding. Nothing at all.

This was a performance. A fake. A market-place haggle, as Kokujoji himself had called the match, dressed up in gold and silver with its own fucking marching band. These two people hadn't even met each other, let alone had the time to love each other. Hell, hardly anyone here knew either of them even if they had met; the Omega had been sheltered from involvement with Eastern aristocracy and hardly anyone from outside Imperial Lands would have had the time to get here even if they had been invited.

As for Munakata, half the people he'd known well had died in the war, and most of the other half weren't considered important enough by the 'Golden' gang to attend such an illustrious spectacle. On the one hand Mikoto understood why Munakata hadn't objected to that – it wasn't like this was going to have any emotional meaning to him.

Sometimes, Mikoto found himself afraid that Munakata wasn't going to let anything have emotional meaning to himself ever again, and would continue to pretend he never had before either.

But then when they were alone together, and his picture-perfect smile was blown away…

Fuck it all. The man had routed Iwafune Tenkei's assault on the Capitol and saved everyone in the city. His spies had gathered the information they'd needed to put an end to Hisui too, didn't these people owe him better than this?

"Mikoto, pay attention," whispered Anna. "They're starting."

The duke tried not to groan as he came forward again, resting his cheek against the back of his hand with his elbow on the railing. He supposed he'd better pay attention somewhat in case Yata decided to jump up during the asking for objections and steal the bride.

… which he wouldn't. Poor kid had said very loudly and often in the past week that things had never been like that between himself and Fushimi Saruhiko, after all. But it put a smile on Mikoto's face to imagine it.

First the main players would have to all make their dramatic entrances. As the trumpets signalled loudly that the drama was beginning, the crowd below stood up in a ripple of movement, and then bowed down when the main doors at the end of the huge hall were opened.

Kokujoji came in first, surrounded by golden-masked courtiers; soon followed by Weismann and a few acolytes Kokujoji had demanded accompany him so he didn't look silly coming down the aisle alone. After Weismann came Munakata himself; Kai perked back up a bit on seeing him. He was flanked by Duchess Awashima – Izumo would be thrilled, no doubt – and Count Zenjou, who had been nominated by the twin Minato dukes to appear in their place after they'd been lucky enough to avoid coming.

Eight more Counts representing the eight traditional provinces of the old Moonfalls duchy marched in after them in four rows of two. Mikoto knew them: some were from families who had sat at those earldoms for centuries, like Doumyoji, Enomoto or Fuse; others like Akiyama, Benzai and Goutou were from more minor gentry with blood-ties to families who had been decimated, and the new Count Kamo and Count Hidaka were barely any grander in pedigree than Munakata had been.

All had been Aeronauts during the war. Cries of nepotism had therefore abounded, especially in the case of the last two, but even though they probably wouldn't have been in those positions if Munakata hadn't known them well, he still never would have had anyone undeserving administrating one of the provinces of his duchy, so Mikoto didn't care.

Nonetheless, he did enjoy the discomforted looks on some of the Moonfalls counts' faces. Why should he have been the only one not enjoying himself?

Granted, he doubted Munakata was – really he did. The look on the other duke's face was as calm and contented as anyone could have asked for, but Mikoto didn't believe it. At the very most he was getting his kicks from fulfilling his duty to the realm or whatever.

The wedding outfit looked good on him though. And since an old flour sack would have looked good on that guy, it meant something that he noticed it – some shiny-fabric ankle-length coat in ultramarine embroidered a shade of blue lighter all over; huge lapels pinned back on both sides with all the ridiculous medals they both had to trot out for special occasions, barely obscured by the silver cord that ran to one of the epaulettes. Thing had to have weighed a ton, and there were frills from the shirt beneath poking out everywhere.

Mikoto was seized with the desire to swing down the nearest curtain and rip it all off him, along with his toy-soldier smile.

_Is this the life you had in mind when you told me to live, Reisi?_

He spent so long watching Munakata glide down the aisle to the altar that it wasn't until he'd arrived that he noticed Fushimi Kisa and her entourage had followed him in, violet from head to toe and a lace parasol blocking her stony look from the other side of the hall. There was someone Mikoto wouldn't have trusted as far as he could spit her out. It was too obvious she didn't give a shit about anything but wealth and power—certainly not her kid. Gods knew what pies she'd stuck her claws into during the war.

She was almost certainly going to get away with anything she had done, and that was fact. It was just easier for everyone else in power if she did. Who was the one Munakata should criticise for being lazy now?

His eyes slid back as if by magnet to Munakata, carved out of an artist's imagination for all he could see of a real man in there. Mikoto had been to Tenrou Point before the attack. He'd met the people living there. He could still remember what the kid beside him's face had looked like before…

"Unity!" Kokujoji boomed out at the crowd. The music had stopped, and Mikoto had been too pissed off to notice. "The foundation of any empire. This is true both in the larger view of each province, each region within that province contributing to the strength and prosperity of the entire realm; and in each descending smaller view, down to the strength and inspiration that is characterised by each individual family unit, and the institution of marriage that is at its core."

Fuck. Mikoto saw through the old man's game here. He was going to prevent Mikoto from making any disturbance to the proceedings by sending him to sleep with this speech.

"Everyone in this room, everyone on this continent, knows that the unity of this nation has been tested over the past few years. Threatened, by greed, ambition, and the absolute moral insanity of those whose names shall not be mentioned here. Destroying the lives not only of those under the protection of their fellow dukes, but also under their own duty of care."

That part was true, at least. Had Totsuka lived, Mikoto knew he would almost certainly have chosen neutrality in regards to the war. Many in his court desired their own independence, and frankly if it hadn't been such a bother he might have counted himself among them, but he never would have allied with the westerners' rallying cry for the reinstitution of slavery.

Add that to the fact that the rebels had executed more than ten times as many of their own people for 'treason', which had ranged from actual treason, to refusing to execute enemy civilians, to criticising the rebel authorities, to reciting eastern poetry in one infamous case… well.

"However," Kokujoji continued. "Our unity has prevailed."

There was a roar of applause from the crowd. Mikoto rolled his eyes and gave the old man three slow claps, in response to a pointed look from his daughter.

"Only a month ago, we saw Sir Kuroh, the Esteemed Lord Yatogami reinstated as Duke of the Black Mountains, bringing the people of the north back into our fold."

That was interesting. 'The people of the north'. Traditionally that referred to both Black Mountains and Grey Lands, and things were becoming messy in the latter province with no clear successor to the late Lord Iwafune. Was Kokujoji planning on assimilating Grey Lands into the Black Mountains? Because the natives weren't going to like that.

There was already talk of this event being a target for terrorist attack from rebel remnants. Now Kokujoji was really shifting the symbolic bull's eye to his successor.

"Today, we reaffirm the bond between east and west, by marrying Captain Sir Reisi, Lord Munakata the Esteemed Duke of Moonfalls and considered most dear to Our hearts—" and Kokujoji sounded anything but affectionate there too; had they had some kind of falling out Munakata hadn't deigned to mention? "to Sir Saruhiko, the Honourable Lord Fushimi and heir to the Countship of Westermont."

Another flourish from the trumpets heralded the opening of the great doors, and – flanked by Fushimi soldiers in black and purple and Imperial guards in black and gold alternately – Mikoto had his second ever look at Fushimi Saruhiko, the kid who was to marry the man he… respected. Sometimes.

The bride was fair enough, if delicate-looking, but they ate up that shit in the Capitol and to his surprise little Kai's fingers went straight back to the balcony wall and he pitched himself forward wide-eyed, like he was looking at a flying horse. Then a blush appeared on the unscarred side of his face. Nephew's first crush? Ha.

He almost snorted for another reason though – even from where he was he could see the boy was clad in green and grey. Surely, Fushimi Kisa was showing how thrilled she was to be 'accepted back into the fold'. He shook his head. There was a more than respectful hush below, slightly nervous, slightly awkward, as the symbolism of the colours confused the crowd. Was it really okay for the bride to be wearing such a garment?—they must have thought.

Though if this was what sent the whole thing crashing down, Mikoto officially gave up faith in all humanity.

Fushimi Saruhiko moved down the aisle slowly and carefully, and no one said anything right up until the awkwardness was offset by the start of the bridal theme. Then, whispers began around the fringes of the crowd. Mikoto was high up and apathetic enough that he didn't bother whispering.

"What's that glittery shit coming down his arm?" he asked.

"It's a giltvine," Anna told him.

Mikoto must have been more out of touch with the Capitol than he'd thought, because at the same time he was muttering, "Looks ridiculous," a girl in the stalls below shriek-whispered to the boy next to her, "Oh, gods – it looks so beautiful! Is it made of crystal or something?"

Since Anna wrinkled her nose at that though, Mikoto considered himself to be in the right this time. Then he noticed his daughter's face was contorted more by sympathy than by distaste.

"It's hurting him," she said, frown growing ever more pronounced. "He can't move properly."

Describing the expression on Fushimi Saruhiko's face was difficult, but Mikoto wasn't surprised by Anna's analysis. Whatever he was feeling, he was trying to hide it, and slightly stiff way he was walking could have been down to many different reasons. Trust the Imperials to have made sure their latest fashions were physically painful to wear; Suoh did not understand those people sometimes. Or most of the time.

"Hmm," the boy below them was saying in reply to the girl. "I can't tell. I think it might be glass. His hips certainly don't look that small though."

His girlfriend clicked her tongue. "He'll be wearing a corset, dummy."

"Oh yeah. In that case; yikes…"

"Shh!" said someone else nearby.

_Any second now on that terrorist attack_ … Mikoto prayed. He glanced at Yata sitting as his representative in the stalls and noted the look of confusion colouring his view of his old friend. He must have been just as baffled about his wearing a glass ornament, though the bulk of the idiots down there seemed to be ooh-ing and ah-ing.

Suddenly the soldiers stopped, right at the beginning of the crowd, and Mikoto caught sight of a small twitch from the kid that told him this move had been unexpected for him. He also stopped, and twisted his body very slightly towards the guards, then suddenly stopped and straightened like that was all the give his 'giltvine' was going to give him.

At the same time, the flourish ended, and Kokujoji began speaking again.

"In this spirit of healing old wounds, rifts between one people that should have never been, his grace Duke Munakata has agreed, as a gift to his bride and his bride's family, that all actions against them for the tragedies of the recent war will be dismissed in recognition of their proposed reparations."

Mikoto rolled his eyes.

"And thus, and as no other kinsman is present to escort the bride, we release into the custody of her family their cousin, Sir Oogai Aya, with a full pardon for any action taken during the war that we hereto know about."

Oogai Aya was alive? Mikoto hadn't known that, and from the look on his face neither had Fushimi Saruhiko. Gasps and murmurs started up from the crowd as well; though Mikoto sensed less anger than he might have expected. Oogai Aya had certainly been thought of as more 'chivalrous' than most of the rebels, but a rebel she had been, and her connection to Fushimi Niki hadn't done her any favours.

Aeronaut security forces escorted her into the hall. She seemed thin and wan, the spirit Mikoto had once seen on her as she'd charged on horseback across a battlefield dimmed, the vibrant green and purple gone and replaced with blue and gold, as if her guardians had been saying to Fushimi Kisa 'two can play at that game'.

Indeed, Kisa's eyes went somehow colder than the ice they'd been before when she saw her niece. Her son, by contrast, didn't even turn to look at his cousin – which made him also seem cold, but Mikoto could tell in his gut that he'd not turned not because he didn't care, but because that stupid piece of glass prevented him.

So it was that even as Oogai took her place at his side, he wouldn't have been able to see – as Mikoto could – that her right arm was missing, the sleeve of her fancy gold jacket pinned to her lapel.

He'd known she'd been severely injured when Church forces had recovered her from the wreck of Sukuna's escape attempt; a lighter sentence than his, perhaps, being only recognisable as Sir Sukuna, Lord Gojou by the Jungle succession medallion half-melted into his charred corpse. But Weismann had declared her unlikely to live, and after that he supposed he'd just assumed she'd died.

"That's Oogai Aya," Anna whispered to Kai. "Sir Saruhiko's cousin. She was a very brave warrior during the war."

Kai tilted his head, then jerked his left arm slightly. Anna nodded.

"She lost her arm entirely, it looks like. But it is a bit like you."

Except she'd accepted the risks of losing more than an arm, and Kai hadn't. Well, Mikoto supposed it wasn't the kind of thing that saying would make the kid any happier, he was the type who preferred to look for similarities between people rather than differences.

The music led the two of them down the aisle, and the pace of that meant nothing happened for what felt like an hour. Every time Mikoto glanced over to Munakata's face he saw the same pristine and polished smile he wanted more and more to punch away. Or kiss – he could go either way he supposed.

Or, there were other things he supposed he could imagine doing to those lips, but wouldn't you know it the far-from-blushing bride reached the altar before Mikoto could desecrate the 'sacred' occasion even in his thoughts.

_Sacred occasion_. He hadn't felt 'sacred' even when that long-passed red sky had made the silhouette of the horses of his own wedding party blacker than their earthy brown coats had been when those guests had left them in the desert.

As the tradition of the South had demanded they'd been just out of sight of the temple spire. He wouldn't have done something so stupid if Tatara hadn't insisted it would be 'fun' to follow the old custom, and sure enough they'd got back to the temple with him carrying the idiot on his back, as he'd told him everything had worked out fine in the end through dehydrated lips…

"What's he doing?"

The same girl who had been admiring the glass giltvine hissed to her companion, and Mikoto left his sombre thoughts to watch the proceedings once more, to see what had caused the stir.

In defiance of protocol, and thus straining Mikoto's belief that it was happening, Munakata had approached the Fushimi kid before the exchange of the vows had even started. Fushimi was taken aback, clearly, but didn't move enough to be out of the way when his groom reached up to the side of his head.

Shocked, no one said anything or tried to stop him. Mikoto saw Munakata fiddle with something next to the boy's ear, then something clicked, and with a little help from Fushimi who must have realised what he wanted and made absolutely no protest to, he took the damn stupid-looking glass case off and handed it to Awashima behind him.

Then he resumed his proper position.

Most of the crowd were turning their heads to one another in confusion. Kokujoji was completely impassive, Weismann nervous. Fushimi Kisa looked absolutely furious.

But her son, though his posture hadn't changed, though his expression was still reserved, somehow seemed to have been extraordinarily relieved by what had just happened, and it took a while for Mikoto to realise this came from his suddenly being still, because before he had been shaking – been good at hiding it, but to a steady eye the very slight movements had been perceived, and it must have stood out like a sore thumb to Munakata being as close as he'd been.

_God of the Fire of Life_ , he thought. _Who the fuck lets their kid go out like that? Let alone to their own wedding._

"That's better," said Anna softly.

Kai nodded, but it seemed agreement with that sentiment was not universal, as the girl who'd been speaking before whined below them—

"What – he took it off? Why? It was so pretty!"

"Munakata's Midlands working-class, after all," said the boy. "They're pretty conservative, he must have thought it looked too vain or something."

"Oh, how boring."

At this Mikoto had had enough, and picked up a mint from the complimentary candy dish within their box that he flicked, fiercely, at the girl's head so that it bounced off the boy's in turn. They both started and looked up at him, and he guessed the insignia beneath the ceremonial armour Anna had demanded he wear, or perhaps something in his eyes, made them quickly turn back and put their heads down.

After that he smirked, and didn't even feel like punching Munakata in the face anymore.

So the formalisation of Kokujoji and the Countess' market-place haggle began, in the annoyingly child-like voice of Adolf Weismann. It felt like it took most of the time he and Tatara had taken tramping through the desert just to get through everyone's never-ending titles.

What would Tatara have thought of all this, he wondered.

How would he have made the fancy-dressed-up power-play seem hopeful and uplifting, the way he'd always been able to, even when what came out of his mouth had been total bullshit…

…

Mikoto next woke up when Anna jabbed him sharply enough with her elbow that even he couldn't stay in blissful sleep. Weismann was still talking so he guessed he hadn't missed much.

"Did I snore?" he asked, disinterestedly.

She glanced at him, then back to the wedding. "A little," she informed him. "Mikoto, it's almost time."

Ah, once the marriage was announced they were going to unfurl the banner of the new House, and Mikoto was hoping all this crap was going to be worth it to see the look on Munakata's face when he saw it.

"Hope he likes what we've come up with."

But first, and Mikoto having just woken up had not been prepared for it –

"You may kiss the bride."

His fists clenched. He wasn't jealous. It was a matter of pride, that was all.

Munakata leaned in with all that precision he did everything with; he tilted his head to the exact angle for the most romantic frame for those at the front, hands behind his back like a proper gentleman.

Mikoto remembered grabbing Tatara and pulling him close in the light of the rising sun, remembered doing the same to Munakata on more recent occasions. He'd always assumed their fling would end with the war, but it hadn't, and Munakata had made no implication that it would as far as Mikoto could see.

He didn't fear that that implication had simply gone over his head, like half the shit he didn't bother to listen to when it came to Munakata. And he wasn't jealous. It was a matter of Munakata deserving better, that was all.

"And," said Weismann, "in accordance with ancient tradition, you may Claim the bride."

Munakata straightened, and waited for Fushimi to turn his back and present his neck. The kid moved slowly, probably the only person who hated being there more than Mikoto – anyone could have seen that, they had to, though whether it was because he thought the duke beneath him or whether he just didn't want to marry someone he'd never met for _some reason_ , Mikoto wasn't sure.

He'd have put his money on the latter though. Since there was Yata – still looking vaguely ill in the stalls. Poor Yata.

It didn't bother Mikoto so much to see his lover's lips descend on the nape of the boy in front of him; claiming bites weren't something Alphas did with Alphas after all. Well, neither was sex, supposedly, but the bite was a symbol of the veracity of the offspring's parentage, and two Alpha males couldn't have kids together, so that was that.

The Fushimi kid winced a little. Mikoto wondered how hard Munakata had chosen to bite; if the kid had been shocked by the pain or by the lack of it.

"The bride is claimed," the High Priest announced. "In the eyes of the gods, this bond cannot be broken. So do I, Adolf the Nineteenth, declare that Sir Reisi, Lord Munakata the Esteemed Duke of Moonfalls and Sir Saruhiko, the Honourable Lord Fushimi of Westermont, married."

So they were.

So was that, that.

And the crowd applauded like trained seals at the zoo. Mikoto supposed if this avoided further war with the west then it was something to be applauded, but he had the feeling less than half those present were doing so for any other reason than that it was expected of them. Some – notably Yata, and Fushimi Kisa – were not clapping. Mikoto found that he too, didn't seem to be moving his arms, even as Kai practically jumped up and down with excitement.

Strange kid. Then again, most would have said his was too, as the applause died down and she patted his knee comfortingly.

"Lord Reisi won't abandon you, Mikoto," she said.

He'd always wondered how much she'd known about that whole relationship.

"Like I need that guy," he snorted.

Kokujoji stood up once more, slower than before, and wouldn't it have been a laugh if he'd died there and then and they could have had the wedding, funeral and coronation of their new Emperor all on the same day? Although, Kokujoji still hadn't made an official declaration about the succession, and that was beginning to make people whisper.

"So is the unity of the nation affirmed," he declared. "So do two hearts, and all our hearts, beat as one."

Who wrote this crap anyway? Probably Weismann, but Mikoto wouldn't have been surprised if he'd not got inspiration from some of his boy lover's collection of his late predecessor's works. Everyone had always said how talented Duke Miwa had been. Mikoto preferred not to comment, it had all sounded the same to him.

"And so does the creation of a great and noble house begin"

The old man swept his hand out and at the sides of the dais two gold-masked soldiers pulled their cords loose from where they'd held the banner up. The banner dropped.

It was Midlands blue. The scroll above the imagery read ' _We shall advance sword in hand, for our cause is pure'_. The Moonfalls sword below it was crossed over the Fushimi sceptre.

If all that stuff was important to Munakata, and Mikoto supposed it was, then he was welcome to it. It was just a stupid banner after all; Mikoto barely remembered his own half the time and it was less complicated.

But, stupid banner or not, it had needed something else. So, standing upright between the sword and the sceptre…

… was a lupin.

And there, just there as soon as he saw that, Mikoto saw in Munakata's eyes a flash of the human beneath the perfect portrait, and there a smile, which Mikoto copied twice as large.

Munakata turned his head just enough to catch Mikoto out of the corner of his eye when he looked up. Mikoto waved his hand for him.

_There's my effort, your grace. What do you think of it?_

The smile stayed a second longer than Mikoto had expected before it was schooled back to illustration-style. That was a win for him, then.

It also looked like Fushimi Kisa hated it on sight, which he also considered a win for him.

 

*~*~*

 

_Like most kids, the boy had been scared of him that days they'd all crowded into the groundskeepers' hut at Tenrou Point. That particular palace had happened to be the homestead of Habari Jin's younger brother, who at that point had been the last surviving member of the Habari family._

_That man would never have stood for his gardener being moved to more prestigious lodgings even though that gardener's son had by then become both a knight and acting-Captain of the Imperial Aeronauts._

_But the Munakata family were (had been) old-fashioned; believing wholly in humility and deference to their liege-lord, he'd heard no complaints from them about the accommodation. He supposed it had been all they'd known. Even the parents themselves, the father in particular, had later reminded his youngest more than once in Mikoto's hearing not to become obnoxious because of his achievements._

_Now, that man probably would have been saying the same if he'd lived to see his son become Emperor._

_But he'd been absent, that time. While the kid had sat behind a chest of drawers with his hands on the edge and watched Mikoto worriedly, almost in tears._

_"There, there now, Kai – you come out from behind there," his mother had said. "You know your grandfather would hate to see you being so rude when we have guests – you're lucky he's still out in the gardens."_

_"I shouldn't worry, Nee-san," Munakata had said casually. "I'm sure his grace receives frequent enough reminders that his face frightens small children."_

_"Reisi!" the Captain's mother had snapped, and swatted the back of his head with a tea towel. "Manners. I apologise, your grace, I had thought I'd raised a better son!"_

_If there had ever been anything, since Tatara's death, that might have made Mikoto laugh out loud, that would have been it._

_"Hn, you didn't do so bad, Munakata-san," he'd said, managing to keep his outward expression confined to a small chuckle. "… considering what you had to work with."_

_Taishi had, by contrast, not been able to hold his own laughter in at all by then, grabbed Kai out from behind the chest and bundled him into his lap as he'd sat down and laughed until his mother had raised a warning hand to him too and he'd stopped hastily, but with a big grin on his face._

_"Aw," he said. "It's a heart-warming thing to see. For the first time in his life, ickle Rei-chan's made a proper friend. I think I might cry."_

_First time in his life? That couldn't possibly have been right, Mikoto remembered thinking. And yet, perhaps the most important word in the older brother's statement had not been 'first', but – as was so often used in conjunction with Munakata Reisi – 'proper'._

_His eyes had flickered over to the Captain's instantly, but Munakata had been smiling with amusement at his brother, and Mikoto had known that that avoidance of his eyes had been on purpose. There'd been a momentary twitch he knew he'd seen, a little pull of deep blue towards him that had righted itself just as soon as it had come._

_Mikoto saw things like that when it came to Munakata, as Munakata did with everyone, him included. But no one else did, not for either of them. Not since Tatara, for Mikoto at least, and sometimes even he..._

_"Taishi!" said the mother, hands on hips. "Don't talk about your brother like that. Honestly, you two – you'd think you were still both in swaddling clothes. Don't think your father won't still put you over his knee!"_

_The elder brother had cringed where Munakata hadn't at that point. Mikoto had guessed he'd had the most experience of it. He couldn't really imagine the Captain, even as a child, being put over his father's knee, though it had been amusing to try._

_"Where did Dad get to anyway, Ma?" Taishi had asked. "Shouldn't he be here to… uh… well, I guess there's not really much for him to discuss with a duke. Unless you like gardening in your spare time?"_

_Of course, the man hadn't been to know that gardening had been one of the last things Tatara had tried his hand at before he'd died. Hadn't been any good at it, mind you. So Mikoto had only raised his eyebrows._

_"Oh, look – he's out there on the path hovering over the flower bed. Must have spotted a weed," Taishi's wife had said, peering out a crack in their shutters._

_The mother had tutted and shaken her head. "As if he doesn't know we have guests. It'll rain out there soon and serve him right if he gets caught in it."_

_"Shall I fetch him, Mother?" Munakata had asked._

_A sudden impulse had struck._

_"I'll do it," Mikoto had said. "Leave these two to their fates."_

_"Oh, I couldn't let you do that, your grace," the mother had cried, "You sit down and I'll go – and Reisi will watch the pot and make sure it doesn't boil over, won't you, Reisi? Now where's that granddaughter of mine…?"_

_"Umi?" Taishi had replied. "Probably climbing the roof again – getting ready for aerial combat and when she joins the Aeronauts, ha ha ha."_

_"Now I've said I don't like her doing that – it's dangerous! She'll fall and break her neck!"_

_"Nah, she's fine. I climbed all over the place when I was her age—"_

_"—Mm, and look at you now," Munakata had said lightly. "I shall retrieve Umi, Mother, and his grace may go out and retrieve Father if he wishes. Indeed, I can only think it a sign from the gods that his grace actually offered."_

_… despite normally being such a layabout, was implied, but the Captain's mother wasn't to know of their usual rapport, so Munakata escaped that jab without being disciplined for it. Mikoto had smirked and stood up._

_For a moment, the older woman had fretted, but then she'd trotted towards the front door before Mikoto had reached it and opened it for him._

_"Let me get that for you, your grace."_

_He'd figured by this point it would make them happier to let them do that kind of shit for him. They'd been used to the younger Habari's style of liege-lord after all, and he'd been a stuffy prick._

_"Give them all a good thrashing for me, Munakata-san," he'd left her with. " 'specially that uptight Aeronaut."_

_"I certainly will," she'd promised, bowing her head to him again as she closed the door._

_The sky had been darkening with both the approaching evening and the gathering cloud. There'd been a long stretch from the house through to the main gardens of the palace that sat above the Tenrou waterfall, and the river snaked around between them so there'd been a small bridge to get from one to the other._

_Not the same bridge as the one half the family had later died on. That had been almost a mile further south._

_Each side of the path had the same basic pattern that had bordered the whole of the garden though. Tall blue flowers. Little red ones. Roses._

_Except that on this one path, the roses had all been white. Everywhere else they'd been yellow – a recent change made in a show of patriotism for the 'Golden' Empire: the rose was the provincial Midlands flower because apparently 'traditional provincial flowers' were something someone had been bored enough to come up with at one point, and in Moonfalls the colour of the rose was usually white._

_Homra's was a poker plant, which was dumb. They looked pretty 'fiery' or whatever, but only grew on the north-western borders where they'd been introduced from Redfields. A cactus would have been better._

_Munakata's father, a small, tanned and ordinary-looking man, had been bent over the centre of the right-hand bed, digging in amongst the roses with a trowel. As Mikoto had gotten closer, he'd seen that what he'd been trowelling had been a smaller plant with small, dark blue flowers._

_He'd pulled it out and tossed it aside with a grimace from the exertion, whereupon Mikoto's shadow had fallen into his line of sight._

_"Comfrey," he'd said shortly. "Should've caught it sooner. Eyes aren't what they used to be."_

_"No place for it in the garden?" Mikoto had observed. "This isn't even part of the main garden."_

_"No excuse for weeds," the man had said. "Some things have leeway in a garden, others don't. Especially a lord's garden."_

_That was where Munakata had had that attitude from, then. Though the older man had appeared to have some stiffness, Mikoto had let him climb to his feet on his own, and looked at the bed again as he did. He'd wondered then – Munakata had mentioned casually about the roses being changed from white to yellow, but the red and blue flowers in the bed, had they been put there for patriotic reasons? The blue Mikoto wouldn't have batted an eye at, but the red… Midlanders generally disliked Southerners after all, before they'd both been absorbed into the Empire there'd been many wars between the two regions._

_"What are the red ones?" he'd asked._

_"Marigolds," the man had answered, wiping his hands off on his trousers. "Usually orange, but this variety grew red."_

_"Red for the south?"_

_The man had snorted. "Marigolds are companion plants," he'd said. "They help the roses. So do the lupins," he'd nodded towards the tall blue flowers. "Usually those don't grow so tall, but they shoot up like anything out here. The marigolds keep the pests away, and the lupins feed the roses – so Reisi tells me 's written in botanical journals or something like that. I only know they help."_

_That had made Mikoto tilt his head at the blue flowers – as tall as he was; slender, blue and pretty, cultivating other flowers – much like Munakata himself, really._

_The older man had seen where he was looking._

_"Roses are the staple in these parts," he'd said. "But those lupins… they've always seemed more beautiful to me."_

_He'd had this look in his eye…_

_Mikoto couldn't have imagined that either of the Captain's parents would have approved of his true relationship with their son, if they'd known what it had already become by that point, but that look in the father's eye – like he must have known or suspected something…_

_But neither he nor Mikoto were ever men of many words, of course, and nothing was said further._

_He remembered smiling a little though, as those first few drops of rain had begun to fall._

 

*~*~*

 

"Pardon me, Sir Saruhiko, he's not bothering you is he?"

Saruhiko looked to his right, and then quickly looked away again. He would have clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes before saying 'no', but his mother was adjacent to him and the stunt Munakata had pulled with the giltvine had already pissed her right off.

"No, my lord," he said.

In all honestly he didn't know how to feel in regard to what Munakata had asked him – the fact that a small child had crawled up between them, knelt down and was hugging Saruhiko's leg with his head resting on his lap.

It occurred to him that, save for the marriage vows, these were the first words spoken to him by his husband. Such a thing augured… ambiguously.

"That's good to hear. I'm sure he'll move if you need him to."

That was that, then.

Saruhiko stared down at his plate and the food he'd barely touched. No one had made comment about it, and ironically for the first time in as long as he could remember he was actually hungry, but even with the giltvine gone the corset still made breathing painful, and eating worse.

Kisa had insisted the attendants get his waist down to eighteen inches; further than they'd ever gone before. It had to be a testament that by this point he was still mostly just grateful the duke had taken the giltvine off, even if he had only done it because if offended his sensibilities or whatever.

Much as that meant he wouldn't be able to smash it and slit his wrists later on, it didn't matter – those thoughts had only been the result of a moment of panic and subsequent stupidity anyway. He wasn't going to do something moronic like kill himself; he'd give it a few weeks or months, learn Munakata's ways and form whatever strategy he needed to deal with him from there – providing Kisa didn't poison the man first. Also that the duke hadn't only agreed to marry him in order to exact revenge.

Well, from Niki's teachings he thought he could handle quite a heavy degree of revenge, if he did say so himself. But he had his limits.

Though he had to say, his new husband didn't seem like the type to do such a thing. But then, Saruhiko had no basis with which to support that 'seem', only an irrational feeling he had whenever the man looked at him. He wouldn't have said he thought it a 'loving' look, only that it promised neither violence nor hostility the way Niki's always had, nor did it fill with contempt as Kisa's would.

And this made him nervous.

Almost as much as what he knew had to happen once the dinner was over.

What he did not yet know was whether or not that would be worth it in order to put a merciful end to the dinner conversation.

"… as I said to the Lord Mayor, it is certainly not uncommon for what they call 'self-made men', not you, of course, your grace – but certainly not uncommon for them to show far less compassion towards their servants than do those of good breeding," the Prime Minister was saying to Kisa, with all bluster. "It's simply neither in their education, nor their blood. But then, good standards in respect to servants have been another casualty of the war, I'm afraid."

"On both sides, I'm sure," said Kisa, and nibbled from the fish on her golden fork.

On Kisa's left, and looking absolutely _thrilled_ to be there, was Duke Suoh – who snorted humourlessly.

"Can't say I've had any problems," he drawled. "Guess Homra must just be filled with better people."

The Prime Minister fumbled for an answer to that, but Kisa was undeterred.

"I shouldn't think so, your grace. A servant's quality is measured in its largest part by loyalty, and considering how many of your so-called best once belonged to others, I'm afraid the mean quality in your court might be poorer than you believe it is."

Saruhiko's own fork scraped slightly on his plate – Kisa shot a warning glare at him and he stilled himself. It had been silly to start like that, but he'd understood too well the reference to Misaki and it had made him nervous.

Kisa knew where he was now, and had the brains to have figured out he was the peasant who had given Saruhiko the peasant's trinket. Saruhiko wasn't sure what she might do about it.

"My servants?" Suoh asked. "They've never belonged to anyone but themselves."

As 'icy' was to 'cold' so were Kisa's eyes to 'icy' on hearing that remark. Munakata cut in swiftly with opportunity to change the subject.

"How have you found the mean quality of service in The Lakes, Sir Aya?"

Oh, yes.

How difficult it was to think of Aya's sudden reappearance when he still could not quite accept it was really her. With their loss, their uncertain fates, the marriage and his own dwelling on the part he'd played in the deaths of thousands of innocents, not to mention Misaki's reappearance, finding a time to think through Aya's likely demise had been impossible.

Too many things had happened with certainty to spare his attention on 'might's and 'maybe's. And yet, she'd lingered below the surface in his mind as those storms had raged, until that little ghost had suddenly been wrenched back up to daylight, looking like another toy a child had been too careless with.

His husband's wedding gift to him. He didn't know how to take that either.

Was it meant genuinely as a gift? The return of a presumably beloved family member? Or was her sorry state a warning to him; perhaps even a promise of things to come? Munakata's question to her prompted the first words Saruhiko had heard from her in almost half a year.

She took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to perk up.

"Oh, Seri-chan's abode is top-notch, cousin Reisi. Me and her have become real pals."

The Prime Minister almost choked to death in shock at the casual address Aya used for someone so far above her station, but to Saruhiko's surprise no one else in the vicinity seemed to mind. Kisa would have enjoyed the two social-climbers being disrespected, of course, and Suoh Mikoto seemed allergic to propriety either way, but what really had him thinking was how Munakata only smiled at Aya, and she was the one who appeared flustered in turn.

"That's good to hear," he said. "My own confirmation ceremony into the service was held at Four Sceptres, you know; I've been most pleased it escaped any significant damage during the war, despite the high casualties among its inhabitants. I have every confidence Lady Awashima is performing her duties there admirably."

Aya averted her eyes. "I guess it would be nice to hear that a place you know didn't get flattened."

Her gaze then turned on Kisa: pleadingly – if Saruhiko wasn't mistaken, but Kisa ignored her and sipped from a goblet, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall.

Munakata, however, either took pity or wanted to make it look like he did.

"Your mother holds the seat at Jadeport, does she not, Sir Aya?" he asked. Aya's eyes widened, and she nodded. "It must have pleased you far more then, to know no Loyalist ships ever went that far west."

"Didn't even get to Ironpeak in the end," said Suoh, sounding wistful for such a thing, like he'd really been looking forward to blowing up Saruhiko's home.

Almost like he'd _been_ there before, though Saruhiko knew he hadn't. Anyway, despite the resource gold-mine Westermont was, they'd still been too far away and too well-protected by the mountains for Imperial troops to get to for it to have been a cost-effective target while the Loyalist side of the Green Belt had been under such heavy assault – protecting those food stores and pushing towards the Lightningfort in the north had been far more important for the Empire.

_That_ palace had had a few smoking craters improving the design since Saruhiko had stood on its balcony and seen his hard work come to fruition, then seen what that work would actually mean.

But Aya looked relieved, at any rate. He'd ask her about how she'd come to be there later, though a large part of him didn't really want to talk to her, to rake over either of their old memories when they could have put behind them and just forgotten all about those people.

Although at that moment, it wasn't like he saw a brighter future for either of them.

"Well, the less damage done the more can be spared to the places not so fortunate," said Munakata, lightly.

Was it a dig? A jab at the part Saruhiko's family had played in handing out such misfortune on his own home? Or Saruhiko himself, if he'd somehow known that much?

Fuck. If only he could have breathed well enough to think properly in the stupid corset.

And then the little head on his knee shifted and the child's arms tightened. It was almost as if Munakata had prompted the boy to do what he did at that moment – look up.

Saruhiko caught sight out of the corner of his eye, and from that one corner his entire attention was suddenly seized by his first real look at Munakata Kai's face, and what Niki had done to it.

He'd seen worse scars on public-relations visits to field hospitals throughout the Jungle province. The kid hugging him still had half a face at least. But it had never been a victim of Niki's own before. Never a result of his own short-sightedness and foolish hoping to achieve something worth recognition.

_There you go_ , he heard: clear as day from those terrible red-pink scars. _This is your achievement_.

There was so much heat in the room just then that he almost wondered if his own skin would burn until it became like that – though if he didn't start breathing soon he didn't know if he'd live to feel it happen.

"Kai," said Munkata suddenly, and almost enough to startle Saruhiko out of the sensation of falling down a deep dark hole, "Why don't you see if the Lady Anna has finished her dinner? I believe she has been wanting to show you the Emperor's angoras, and Sir Saruhiko needs to be excused for a moment."

He did? Why what was wrong – apart from everything? Was he crying? Gods above, let him not have become that pathetic.

Kai stood up, a curious, slightly confused look on his face to which his uncle smiled gently.

"Go on," he said, and gestured down the table where Kushina Anna was finishing up from her own glass. "And be nice to the rabbits."

Wordlessly – and Saruhiko had heard the child was also mute on top of everything during one of Kisa's semi-subdued rants about how lowly her new son-in-law was – Kai nodded and trotted off with a very small limp towards the Homra girl. Then Munakata turned to him.

"My apologies, Sir Saruhiko. I hope you have not remained so long for Kai's sake – your inclusion into our family has made him quite excited."

…

What?

These words reminded Saruhiko uncomfortably of the feeling his parents gave him each in their own way, two curveballs in rapid succession so that he didn't know what to think about first. Munakata had been expecting him to leave? He knew he was supposed to leave the ceremony for quiet contemplation before the end of the meal; such was Westermont tradition and Kokujoji had agreed to honour it – probably in the hope that the less time Saruhiko spent in the hall the less time there'd be for any major incident to erupt.

But, this had to be both too early, and too good to be true, and Niki had always said 'if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is', and had great fun experimenting with different ways to drill that into Saruhiko's head.

And why should the nephew have been excited about the marriage? Was this somehow another dig about Munakata's dead family?

His thoughts flew far away when Munakata took his left hand, where the ring that bore the Moonfalls sigil rested on his finger, and pressed his lips to it, never taking his eyes off Saruhiko as he did so, as if he was trying to drag the last of the oxygen away from him with that look.

It must have been long enough to make him look like an idiot that he sat there staring at the stranger next to him until Kisa cleared her throat with annoyance and he reminded himself he was being forced to placate her because he was weak enough that he'd allowed it to happen.

The kiss had been tantamount to permission for him to go, and thank the gods for it – whatever Munakata's motives in giving it to him. Had he had to stay there much longer he might have fainted, and embarrassed everyone involved.

Even now he was horrified to find himself almost fall back over again as soon as he stood up. Munakata still had his hand, though both were gloved so neither felt the other's skin, and he pulled Saruhiko's chair out like a gentleman and steadied his rise so no one seemed to notice his slight panic.

"If it pleases you, Sir Saruhiko, I'll have a lady of mine attend to you while the dancing carries on."

Where Saruhiko would ordinarily have said 'whatever' he now choked out, "yes, my lord," and bowed to him – Beta-fashion sure, both feet together, but it was that or attempt the Omega bow with one leg crossed behind the other and fall over for certain. He hoped Kisa would be understanding.

Ha. His mother – _understanding_. Still, she'd probably also rather not be embarrassed, and there were few others who could see his legs from there. Idly he looked down the table at the various dozens of guests all pretending not to be watching him.

Misaki wasn't there though. Saruhiko couldn't see him anywhere in the hall.

"I will join you as soon as I am able," Munakata assured him, distracting him from that dangerous path of thought towards his very first 'fiance', back to the one that actually had managed to put the mark on his neck, oddly delicate though that bite had been.

His eyes were like an abyss – looking at them terrified Saruhiko, and probably most others too.

But he couldn't help looking.

"Thank you, my lord," he said weakly.

He didn't let go of his husband's hand until he'd turned away from him, fearing as he did for his balance. Then he hailed the nearest of his mother's guards, who escorted him out as someone further down the table giggled suddenly and was hushed. Yes, he was leaving to have that pesky virginity done away with, it was all very funny.

Saruhiko didn't look back again, mostly because he didn't care but also because he didn't want to catch Munakata's eye again.

 

*~*~*

 


	5. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished Camp NaNo and this chapter in the same stretch - creativity left for authors notes = zero. There's a few squicks in this one, because Niki is a bad, bad man, but for now it's only talking. Lots of talking. We were supposed to get to other things, but Aya decided to steal the spotlight for a while. 
> 
> Thanks for everything, guys, hope you enjoy!

 

*~*~*

 

There was a terrible feeling in him that the man was going to be far, far beyond his power to control or manipulate, which meant he was fucked – figuratively as well as what lay in store for him in a few hours.

"Take me to a fucking bathroom," he hissed at the guard, once they'd reached the door out of the hall.

Other guards opened it for him, and the one he'd picked said, "Yes, milord," and walked to his right and slightly in front of him.

Walking was actually better than not. It made him feel like he was getting away from his problems, though they were closer than ever. But he felt like that helped him to breathe also.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

There was no point going over any of it, his head was spinning – he needed water, and to get the fucking corset off before it actually killed him.

He waved the guard away when they arrived and told him to wait at the end of the next corridor then got inside and had a look at himself in the mirror. The fact that the beautifiers had actually made him up halfway decently felt more like salt in the wound than a consolation.

It wasn't himself he was looking at. Only another decorated sham, just like the whole damned marriage was. The delicate dark-haired beauty in the mirror was a lie for the masses, an illusion to cover up a bloodstained monster's spawn and keep those currently in power secure.

The extra sting of the giltvine was thankfully gone, but it seemed like everything else was just as calculated to deceive, and like he had found himself in some morality tale of old all these deceits were hurting him in turn like they were a punishment.

A punishment for his achievements.

The fixing agent in his hair pulled the strands painfully. The make-up was suffocating him almost as much as the corset; Kisa had had him painted up even more like a corpse than his pale skin already suggested, yet he could see two high, red spots on either cheek, like he was feverish – and he certainly felt it. The only other thing it compared to was being in –

Fuck no. Not that.

He held his breath as much as he was able to and tried to rub one leg against the other. He couldn't move it much, but it was enough for him to feel a little slick between them.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck.

On top of everything else, his heat was starting. He'd probably be in blinding agony by the end of the night – or not, he supposed, if he got the knot by then, but that honestly wasn't something he was looking forward to, it sounded humiliating and undignified.

He threw himself into the nearest cubicle, lowered the seat-cover and practically collapsed onto it, leaning back against the tank – thankful the palace had modern plumbing on this floor –  as much as he could and reaching back behind himself to try and get at the laces of the corset so he could loosen them at long last.

But his arms wouldn't reach – he'd have had to unbutton the back of the gown, and it just wasn't feasible.

Any minute now, he was going to start screaming and kicking the floor like a –

Click.

" – said that it's some reference to the Tenrou Point gardens, which just goes to show you what kind of duke Munakata's going to be."

The outer door swung open and two sets of female Omega's shoes clicked against the floor outside the cubicle. Whoever had entered had a Capitol accent, but pronounced 'Munakata' as a Midlander would and was so probably originally from that province and boarding here for her education. Saruhiko listened closely.

"What kind of _Emperor_ , don't forget," said her companion, also sounding native to the Capitol. "Championing himself all the time; how obnoxious."

Like every other noble in the realm didn't do it ten times worse.

"Especially considering," said the first, and Saruhiko inferred she meant considering what kind of self that was, i.e. common.

The second was a little more tactful. "Well, the worst part of that really is how Fushimi heraldry made it into the banner. He must be very proud he's acquired those mines, if you ask me, to dishonour his own family like that."

"Do you think so?"

"Why else would he have married him? That said, I don't know how well it will work out for him if that skinny thing can't give him a child. Father was at the Lord Prime Minister's reception last week, spoke with several people who'd seen him without the corset. A veritable birch twig, was the general opinion, and no fit state to be his 'Lady Blaulieb'."

Kisa hadn't been exaggerating about the court child-bearers saying such things about him then. Not that Saruhiko cared, except to be faintly surprised that anyone could be this vacuous.

"Oh dear. Or 'oh dear' for him, anyway, good news for everyone else. I'd been talking to my older brother about the time he spent mopping up their forces on the Redfields border – truly despicable family by all accounts."

Couldn't argue with her there.

"Mm, did you hear the rumour?"

Oh, gods. This again.

"Which one?"

"You know, the really disgusting one?" There was a pause. "Hm, I can tell by your face you haven't heard it. Come here, it's not really for an Omega's ears."

Which was why an Omega sounded so gleeful to be repeating it, no doubt. After a short pause the first girl cried out "Ew!" and the second laughed.

"That's what I heard when I was at the department store – I told you I had to wear last year's coat so the sales clerk, whose husband served with the infantry and knew people who were in the Duke of Homra's forces, anyway she must have thought me of lower status than I am and didn't mind telling me. And you know, as I said I imagine those people are capable of anything."

"But Fushimi Saruhiko passed the Test of Virginity – surely His Holiness would not have lied about such a thing?"

The second Omega made a non-committed noise. "Who knows? They do say there's no smoke without fire."

So they did, and Saruhiko supposed he couldn't argue with that either, because it wasn't like that rumour had come from nowhere, or even been cunningly crafted by the Loyalists to smear the 'good' Fushimi name; they hadn't needed to come up with lies to do that.

No, Niki had held his match to sodden kindling and created all that smoke himself, he'd just never gone as far as starting that particular fire.

" _His worth is in his modesty, as well as our money_ ," Kisa had said.

"Speaking of fire," said the second Omega, punctuated by the click of a pocket mirror being closed. "Did you get a look at Munakata's nephew?"

"Oh, gods, wasn't it horrible!?" exclaimed the other. "What was he thinking, bringing the boy to such an important event?"

How strange it was that _this_ was where Saruhiko felt himself stop breathing.

"Mm, I know. I mean it was all very well and good of him to continue to care for the boy – family ties are important in the Midlands; too important, father says. He certainly shook his head when he saw the boy in Duke Suoh's box: it was revolting."

"You'd think they'd have asylums for people like that."

"Oh, they do – but I suppose Munakata thinks he's making some kind of statement by carting the poor thing around with him. Honestly though, would you want to go out in public if you looked like that? As if this wedding needed another dishonour piled on top of it."

This was wrong. Saruhiko had been prepared to sit and enjoy all the insults hurled at him, his family, his husband; from useless people like these girls or the Prime Minister, but this line of conversation somehow felt too wrong.

It had been a long time since he'd thought his capacity for righteous anger had been lost. And yet, the sensation that was making his fingers curl into fists was reminding him of just that feeling.

"Poor thing," agreed the other Omega. "He'd probably have been better off dying with his family at Tenrou. Now he'll spend the rest of his life as a freak his uncle uses to – "

BANG!

Just as Saruhiko had found his hand stretching out towards the lock on his cubicle door, as if of its own volition because he had no idea what he'd have done once he'd interrupted the disgusting things he was hearing, the outer door suddenly crashed against the wall, and both Omegas made frightened noises.

"Oi!" bellowed an all-too familiar and yet too-strange voice. "What the fuck are you two talking about!?"

Misaki.

Just when he'd begun to wonder if seeing him back in Westermont hadn't just been a delusion, there he was.

"Th-this is a child-bearer's bathroom!" whined one of the girls, and certainly Saruhiko was as surprised to hear Misaki yell at a child-bearer as he was to suddenly be hearing Misaki's voice at all.

Misaki further defied expectation, and did not falter when this was brought up. Instead he spoke, his tone one Saruhiko had rarely heard from him before now; made far more intimidating by the four years that had deepened it. Last time Saruhiko had heard Misaki speak this way, he'd been talking about the boy who'd died on the wheel the week before he'd left.

"What, you think that's going to let you off saying things like 'that kid should have died'!?"

Saruhiko couldn't see Misaki, but he imagined him pointing his finger accusingly the way he'd always used to. He imagined the anger twisting at the other boy's face the way he'd always made it do. Had that face changed much, he'd been wondering? He hadn't had a good look at it yet.

There was a brief enough pause between then and the second Omega's next words that as good as said she'd known Misaki had got her there. But Saruhiko doubted she'd admit it. Sure enough, her indignant huff was followed by –

"I don't know who you think you are – "

"Homra's 'Yatagarasu'," Misaki declared. "Sir Yata, the Crow of Ironpeak."

" – well, Sir Yata, if you really are a knight, you'll know that you are the one in the wrong here. Admonishing ladies is not a chivalrous action – "

"Screw that shit!" yelled Misaki. "How chivalrous is it to say that kid should be dead?! What, because he has a few scars? Does that mean he's not a person to you two anymore!?"

_If he ever was, considering his pedigree_ , thought Saruhiko.

"Well, what would the Homra Crow know about it?" snapped the second Omega. "Everyone knows your knighthood is only one of Duke Suoh's southern jokes! My father is kin to the Count of Kintsuki, and a member of parliament here in the Capitol; he could have you arrested in front of the entire court tonight if I asked him to, and when he hears about a pervert male Beta bursting into a bearer's water-closet that's exactly what he'll do – as if it wasn't known already what a group of brutish louts the people of the South – "

Click.

Continuing the spirit of interrupting other people's sentences, Saruhiko turned the lock on his cubicle and smirked to hear the girl's whingeing suddenly stop. He let the door swing openly slowly and adopted the best posture he could when he moved over to the sinks.

"Sa-Saruhiko!" Misaki stuttered out.

Saruhiko didn't turn to look at him yet. Even noticing where the reflection of his figure was on the bathroom mirror he swiftly turned his attention to the two Omega girls; a simpering taller girl in old-rose pink with dark blonde hair, and a more furious-looking beauty in gold out in front of her, iridescent sparkles coating her perfectly curled auburn locks. That fury was rapidly turning to panic, as Saruhiko turned one of the taps and removed his one glove.

Neither of the girls said anything, so he spoke first.

"Hmm? Weren't you saying something just then?" he asked the brunette. "Please don't stop on my account: I was looking forward to hearing all about your father. What was his name?"

He could see the girl mentally review everything she'd said since she'd come into the room and realise how screwed it had made her in this situation. She was smart enough for this not to take very long, he only looked away once to soap his hands before she replied.

"Sir Saruhiko. Forgive me, my lord, no offence was meant."

"Who said anything about offence?" he asked, and put his hands beneath the water again. "I'm interested to see who comes out on top in this _battle of wits_. Your opponent has never even gone to school, let alone had an Imperial Academy education, so it should be simple enough for you."

"Your pardon, my lord," said the girl, curtseying with a slight tremble in her voice. "It is not ladylike for one to involve oneself in arguments, especially with males one does not know. My father will be looking for me, forgive me, my lord."

Saruhiko turned off the water.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said. He turned again and began to move towards the two, backing them in the direction of the door. "Unless I was mistaken, I married a duke a couple of hours ago. So you should really be addressing me as 'your grace'."

"Yes, your grace!" said the girl, and beside her her friend let out an actual whimper. They reached the door and the friend fumbled with the handle until it was open so they could both slither through it. "Sorry, your grace, the excitement has been too much – please forgive us, we must get back to the hall!"

She curtseyed again – her friend had already turned her back, lifted up her skirts and begun to run as well as anyone wearing heels like that could. The other Omega bowed her head one last time before she followed, their neat little shoes clattering against the marble floors and echoing even past the corner they turned to leave the remaining two behind alone.

Now.

Now Saruhiko could turn to look at Misaki…

… who hadn't seemed to have changed at all. Right down to the expression on his red-framed face, staring at Saruhiko like he couldn't believe he'd just done that. Right down to the red-beaded wooden nautilus pendant around his neck.

Maybe this was what Kisa had truly had in mind when she'd tied the corset so tightly; had the giltvine hold his arms in one place, thinking that otherwise Saruhiko wouldn't have resisted the urge to throw himself on the other boy – man now, really – wrap his arms around him and whisper his name over and over to convince himself that this was real, that the only person who had ever made him feel like there was something worthwhile in the world, in himself even, that they had returned to him. Misaki probably wouldn't have appreciated it. Misaki's view of how things stood between them, whatever it was, was probably wrong for the simple fact that it was Misaki.

Who knew? Perhaps Misaki would hate him as soon as he heard whatever truths still confused him from Saruhiko's own lips, if he chose to tell him such things. Perhaps it was better, safer for everyone involved, if he did. Even the way he looked now, in response to Saruhiko's action towards those girls – Misaki had never liked it when nobles used their status as a weapon. Saruhiko felt himself grin.

"Sir Misaki had better hurry up," he said silkily. "He's still in the wrong bathroom."

"What!?"

That look on that face was as priceless as ever.

But he supposed it was for the best he couldn't keep it. So he fell back on what he knew best.

"Sir Misaki. Sir Misaki the gallant, noble knight. How many servants do you have now, Mi-sa-ki?"

Laughter stirred in his words. Misaki gave him a blank look for a while, probably still coming to terms with their reunion, and then blinked and started going almost as red as the ceremonial jacket his various – and admittedly, impressive – medals were pinned to.

"Huh? What – why would I have servants?"

The creeping laughter pounced and left Saruhiko's throat with enough force that he ended up with his hand on the marble sink-top for balance. It stopped quickly when the corset squeezed it down, but the smile on Saruhiko's face wasn't so restrained.

"Oh, Misaki. Still a peasant at heart? Why am I not surprised…?"

With that said Misaki finally seemed to catch up; snorted and rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah well, what can I say except I can still wipe my own ass, Saruhiko? I don't know about these titles they've given me or whatever, I serve Lord Mikoto, and that's that."

The smile on Saruhiko's face abruptly tried to leave. He made sure he didn't lose it entirely, but hearing the way Misaki said 'Lord Mikoto', when he had never referred to Kisa or Niki as anything more respectful than 'the Countess' or 'the Consort' when they'd been alone together, that was something Saruhiko found himself disliking instantly.

Misaki picked up on that, but being Misaki, he did so for the wrong reasons, averting his eyes guiltily.

"I, uh… I know he killed your father, Saruhiko." He stood stiffly, almost like a proper knight, and like a noble he managed to lie (if not at all convincingly) when he said, "My condolences for your loss."

Saruhiko chuckled. "Misaki shouldn't try to use big words like 'condolences'. They don't suit him."

Much as he would have loved to stay put and chat, questions would have been asked had anyone come in and found the star of the event in the same bathroom as a male Beta, so Saruhiko slunk towards the door before Misaki could say anything else about his 'loss', and hopefully get the message across that he didn't want to talk about it.

It seemed to work. Misaki followed him hurriedly into the corridor and seemed more immediately concerned with whether anyone had seen him coming out of a bearer's bathroom. Fortunately the guard Saruhiko had summoned at random had had the decency or the instructions to take him to a more out of the way one, and there was no one in sight until they turned the corner, at which point they only saw that guard.

Cowardly though it may have been, it was only with the presence of that audience that Saruhiko found the will to ask.

"Is Misaki's peasant family all well?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, everyone's fine. We made it over Hailgood in almost one piece each, and my Mom works in the Ashrock kitchens now. Her husband's not so much a fan of the spicy food we have there, but I like it."

Fate had at least that drop of mercy then. Saruhiko gestured with his head for the guard to walk ahead of them and commanded,

"My husband's quarters," for their destination, having to take the extra second to remember to say 'husband', then wonder if he should have said 'the duke'. He dismissed those thoughts and returned to Misaki quickly. "Suoh has one of his knight's mothers work in his kitchens?" he asked. "How undignified."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Misaki, frowning. "My mom's a cook, so shouldn't she work in a kitchen? Ugh, you nobles."

"I suppose I can't comment can I?" Saruhiko mused, and without really thinking about it added, "since my own father-in-law would have been but a gardener if Niki hadn't burned him to a crisp."

Misaki's eyes jerked towards him wide as little suns, and a little part of Saruhiko still revelled in eliciting that response, but even so he regretted having let that slip out when it was so obvious it was bothering him.

"Saruhiko…" said the knight. Before Saruhiko could shrug his own words off and change the subject, Misaki grabbed his arm to stall him, and said pointedly, "Saruhiko, that wasn't anything to do with you, and I don't think Captain Munakata has anything against you because of it."

Wishful thinking in both cases. It _was_ something to do with him, and though so far he'd been surprised by the duke's interactions with him, he'd have hardly thought he'd be let off the hook for what had happened at Tenrou Point if Munakata did find out. He found himself shaking his head.

"I mean it, Saruhiko," Misaki went on. "I went to see him about it myself before your Test." Those words became a mumble at the end, his eyes averted again this time with embarrassment. 

Saruhiko raised his eyebrows, an expression quickly fabricated to hide the alarm that Misaki's words raised, because if Misaki had done such a thing, and being Misaki he almost certainly had, then it was anyone's guess what Munakata had taken from that meeting in regards to their relationship. Would Saruhiko be punished for something like that; for having such a close relationship with an unrelated Seeder, even if not an Alpha? It was a definite possibility.

Damn it. Why did Misaki have to be this way? A man of integrity, in this world that they were forced to live in; how stupid could you get? Two minutes of conversation after four years apart, and Saruhiko was already wondering how the other had survived this long. But despite his efforts something in his face must have shown, because the next thing Misaki said was –

"Don't look at me like that, Saruhiko, Lord Mikoto will back me up if anything needs to be done about it, so don't look so scared."

Loud. Why did he have to speak so loudly? The guard waiting a few steps ahead could hear them loud and clear, and there was no way he wouldn't repeat every word of their conversation to Kisa.

Misaki just growled. "I hate seeing you look scared like that."

And why did he have to say _'Lord Mikoto'_ in that tone either?

"Suoh Mikoto is a paragon of justice, is he?" Saruhiko asked. Reluctantly, he pulled his arm away from Misaki's grasp and began walking again.

"I didn't say anything like that," said Misaki, following on. "Lord Izumo says nobles use phrases like that to they can shit on each other for never measuring up, though most of the time that's when people say Lord Mikoto isn't 'a true gentleman'. He is a good guy, and he treats his people like they're people. And he saved my life, so I owe him big time."

Well. Maybe Suoh Mikoto had one redeeming factor then.

Misaki continued. "I, uh, never got the chance to thank you. You saved my life too, and my whole family. I was really worried those guys would find out and make trouble with you for it. I was worried the whole time the war was on in case you got hurt. I – "

"Who would have hurt me, Misaki?" asked Saruhiko. He felt bitter thinking about it, and accordingly his voice went cruel.

And Misaki looked vaguely heartbroken for a moment. Oh yes, he'd heard – and was at least smart enough not to immediately believe Weismann's proclamation. The one thing Saruhiko wished Misaki could have taken as read; not because Weismann had been telling the truth, though he had, but because he hated to think Misaki would have had _those_ images in his head.

Even though Saruhiko accepted how while 'virgin' may have been accurate, 'pure and uncorrupted' hardly were, it was painful to think Misaki might think otherwise.

But it wasn't as painful as the corset, so Saruhiko could easily move past such pain and be glad Misaki might have cause to question his perceptions.

"I… I don't know, Saruhiko. It was a dangerous time."

"I imagine Misaki was in far more danger than I was," Saruhiko said. "I hear Homra's 'Crow' performed many brave and valorous deeds over the course of the war. A hero of the people."

Misaki was as red as his hair. "I…"

"Misaki still believes in heroes, doesn’t he?" Saruhiko asked.

It was a taunt, but Misaki didn't seem to get that when he answered confidently, "Of course – Lord Mikoto is the greatest hero in the entire country!"

'Lord Mikoto', who as reports would have it had fathered half the bastards on the Green Belt, both loyalist and separatist sides of it – the former more consensually than the latter, so the rumours went. 'No smoke without fire', as they said.

Odd, really, that Saruhiko actually hoped that was the case. That Suoh Mikoto was some monster and Misaki would see it one day and…

And what? Why should he have cared one bit?

"Your grace?"

Saruhiko was pulled from his musings. At the turn of the next corner was a short corridor with a single set of doors at its end, outside which stood two guards in blue, and a female Aeronaut with round-framed glasses, who had been the one to address him. His own guard must have brought him not only to a more out-of-the-way restroom, but also one on the floor he was to be bedded on. How convenient.

"Yoshino-san?" Misaki said.

"Sir Misa—ah, Sir Yata. Everyone downstairs was wondering where you'd gone."

"Oh, yeah – I, uh…"

" – if you'd like to come inside, your grace, I can attend to you until the duke arrives."

Lovely. That was just what Saruhiko had needed, really, more annoying underlings poking into his business like his mother's favourite puppet Sir Cockroach had, and yet when this girl next said,

"I'll expect your grace will need some help unlacing."

Well, he was willing to have her poke a little if it meant the corset could come off.

Plus, he wanted to be away from Misaki now. Away from the urge to grab him and dig his nails into his skin and curl them around so they could never be parted again, and the sick feeling that came whenever the words 'Lord Mikoto' came out of his mouth.

Misaki had a new lord now. There had been no need to fall so far to save the symbol of a bond broken.

"Well," he said. "I guess that's it for me. Glad to see Misaki survived somehow. Hope his life in Homra treats him well."

Once again, Misaki reached up for his arm, putting his hand on Saruhiko's shoulder gentler than before with, "Saruhiko – !" and a hesitation. While the girl made no comment the gesture elicited a definite twitch of displeasure from the Midlands guards. He pulled his arm back but continued. "Saruhiko, if you don't want to do this say the word, and I'll find some way to stop it. I promise."

That made those two guards exchange a vehement look, and Saruhiko's own turned his head slowly. The girl, at least, did not seem at all bothered by the comment, which appeared to stay the Midlands guards for then and there – and from what Saruhiko had heard Misaki could probably have taken out all three of them without breaking a sweat if he'd had to, and smuggled Saruhiko out of the palace and away to the South.

But the ramifications of that were unthinkable, and Saruhiko had no wish to go with him anyway.

Not with Misaki's _new_ lord, and not with the heat-slick between his legs beginning to soak into his underwear. The wedding perfume wouldn't hide the scent of that much longer, he needed to get into the chambers. So –

"Mi-sa-ki. You really are still a peasant, aren't you? Don't you get that once I come out from that room I'll be poised to be the Imperial Consort of a _continent_ as soon as the old man dies? This is how the world works for us nobles, at least in the civilised part of the land."

Misaki frowned. "Wait – "

"Misaki belongs at Suoh Mikoto's side now, doesn't he? Everyone was wondering where he'd gone?" he laughed. "Don't worry about me, Misaki. I have a good feeling about how things are going to go in there."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively at that, just to see the look on Misaki's embarrassed face.

But couldn't leave it like that. And so, he added –

"Thanks for checking up on me, Mi-sa-ki."

Then walked the length of the corridor as Misaki made a few aborted attempts to speak behind him.

Poor Misaki. It wasn't fair that he should suffer the whims of Fushimi Kisa and Niki's spawn's strange, unbefitting of an Omega's moods. He wasn't the one who had done anything wrong, he was just Misaki.

Perhaps, Saruhiko thought, Munakata would prove to be a more interesting target for these feelings. After all, a few physical blows in retaliation were nothing and it wasn't like the shell Kisa was keeping hostage meant anything either.

 

*~*~*

 

Why had it turned out like that?

Yata couldn't understand it. What had gone wrong? Had Saruhiko been mad at him for going into the wrong bathroom? Was that weird behaviour some kind of rebuke for Yata's lack of being proper?

No, he knew Saruhiko well enough – or he'd thought he did – to know he'd only been teasing with those words. This was Saruhiko, he couldn't have changed so much, not who he was deep down, no matter what Munakata had started talking shit about. This had just been Saruhiko on one of his bad days: Yata remembered those, even though he'd only thought about the good memories in the last four years, not wanting to think about Saruhiko like that when he wasn't there to defend himself or anything.

But why? If he was upset about the wedding, why wouldn't he have taken Yata's offer to get him away from this place? Did he not think Yata could do it?

Was it Yata's fault that reunion, the reunion he'd been aching to have since the day he hadn't been able to say anything to Saruhiko as he'd passed them by on horseback and led their pursuers away, for every single day since, worrying his head off about what might have been happening even before a massive war had broken out – was it his fault that Saruhiko had been so _cold_ to him?

He missed things. He knew he did: he'd had to have Munakata of all people tell him he'd accidentally proposed to Saruhiko before he'd left Westermont, (the less said about that, the better – even if they had survived to see each other again) and that was only the latest thing, but he liked to think he could rely on others to point out his mistakes so he could make amends.

Maybe that was what he needed, to go through what had just happened with someone else so they could tell him where he'd gone wrong. That was really Lord Izumo's kind of thing, but finding him would mean going back into that hall with all those costumed, prissy fakes talking shit about things they knew nothing about.

At least Yata could admit he didn't know what he didn't know. Not like that pair of bitches he'd heard mouthing off in the bathroom earlier.

And yeah, he probably shouldn't have been listening at the door. But having escaped from the hall and the empty talking he'd just happened to see Saruhiko pass the end of another corridor, and dithered until he'd seen the two girls approach from the other direction. What could he say? He'd just had a kind of feeling about those two. _'Would have been better off dead'_ , what a load.

Or had that been what had upset Saruhiko so much, made him… made him not react the way Yata had thought or hoped he might when he'd seen him again. For his eyes to completely pass over Yata until he'd bullied those two bullies out of the room. Was it because it was the first time he'd seen Munakata Kai's face, and felt guilty for it?

Yata had seen something like that in his expression. Dumbass. It wasn't like it was his fault for even the smallest part of it. It wasn't like things were all over for that kid either.

But then, Saruhiko never had believed in good things. Maybe it had been arrogant for Yata to have hoped he himself could have proven to him that there were some.

"Misaki-kins!"

For a split-second he stupidly thought the voice that had called out belonged to Saruhiko, but it was higher-pitched – female, though not unfamiliar either. He looked up to the owner of the voice that called out from the balcony above him.

"Aya?"

Looking ten years older than she was, even with the efforts made to doll her up, Oogai Aya leant down on her one remaining arm and grinned at him.

He couldn't help but let his eyes be drawn to the empty sleeve pinned to the front of her embroidered coat, and remember with a sunken heart the command he'd shouted to fire their artillery at those escort ships.

The rebels had had the much faster airships, designed by Sukuna, after all. They'd needed ground support or they would have outrun Lady Awashima's forces.

"Oh, Misaki," exclaimed Aya, her grin a little unnerving with such hollow cheeks. "Don't you remember it's 'Sir Aya'? Never mind, it's good to see Misaki is still himself. Climb up and talk to me, ickle Misaki, I've missed so much in The Lakes!"

"'Yata' is fine," he grumbled.

There was a trellis leading up from the one balcony to the other – easy enough for Yata to climb. He did so swiftly, and hopped up onto the wide windowsill Aya had perched on in the meantime.

The night seemed deceptively quiet, as he exhaled from the small exertion.

"Ha ha," said Aya, breathing in the fresh air like she hadn't had the opportunity in a while. "The Crow of the Flame Knights was Misaki all along. I didn't know that until Seri-chan told me – isn't it weird we never faced each other on the field?"

In truth Yata had seen her once, from afar. He would have said he'd tried to avoid her, but he certainly hadn't minded that the fighting had only pushed their positions further apart.

But something told him it wouldn't have been a good idea to start talking about that. So he waited for her to choose another subject.

They exchanged small talk for a while that fizzled out within a minute; their relationship had always been more to Saruhiko than to each other, no matter how Aya had teased him he'd been sure after a while it was for her cousin's amusement. Sure enough,

"Did you see dear Saruhiko, Misaki?" she asked, after a pause.

And yet, wasn't this someone who could help him? Someone who knew Saruhiko, and who had known him in recent years too? He gambled –

"Yeah," he admitted. "But I don't think he was happy to see me."

"Really?" Aya asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Hm. Well, Saruhiko has his moods, I don't suppose that's changed. Is he getting ready for the bedding?"

For some reason that word, never putting him the best at ease, made him especially tense in regards to what was going to happen tonight, to Saruhiko. As Aya giggled at his lack of response, like someone putting on a show, a thought suddenly struck him about a name he'd heard several times in conjunction with that very subject, and he asked,

"Hey… who's Lady Blaulieb? Everyone's been talking about her but I didn't see her on the invitation list for the wedding or anything, so who is she?"

After a pause of some disbelief Aya snorted, trying this time to hold in laughter and failing as she reached out quickly with her one arm to steady herself from her impromptu movement. Yata managed not to snap at her for making him feel dumb – depending on the answer it may have been fair enough that he should feel that way. Not knowing the stupid rules of etiquette was one thing, not knowing who important people in the realm were may have caused trouble for Lord Mikoto if Yata made mistakes in front of them.

But Aya shook her head at him, then sat up straight so she had enough balance to pat him on the head. He cringed, and groaned, but allowed it in order to hear her answer.

" _'As that sea strand adjoins the tide, she sitteth at her husband's side; and as that tide yon ships shall sink, her eyes ensnareth Humperdinck'_ ," Aya quoted: grandiose, but Misaki didn't know from what she was quoting except that it sounded old.

"Huh?" he said.

Aya rolled her eyes. "The Epic of Grungurtel?" she said, like it was something he should have heard of. Then she sighed. "I guess ickle Misaki didn't have much time for courtly poetry while there were battles to be fought. Grungurtel was a legendary hero of the north who probably didn't actually exist. Lady Blaulieb becomes his wife in the epic; there are some people who think they see parallels in the duke's marriage to Saruhiko."

"Okay…" said Misaki. He hated the idea he was going to have to keep all of the fictional characters straight in the years to come on top of the real live knights and nobles. "Then who’s Humperdinck?"

"Humperdinck is Grungurtel's son, who takes Lady Blaulieb's castle while her husband Lord Blaulieb is off at war with Grungurtel's lands. Supposedly through discourse she persuades him to leave the castle and its inhabitants unharmed, but Lord Blaulieb won't stand the insult to his honour and kills Humperdinck and sticks his head on a spike."

Misaki followed her brief gaze towards the wall of the palace, and was glad they were nowhere near any part where any heads on spikes that may once have belonged to people Aya had known could be seen. He thought through what she'd said hastily to distract her.

"So, Lady Blaulieb's husband kills Grungurtel's son… but they eventually get married? I guess I can see why people would compare that to Saruhiko and the duke, I mean, after what Niki did…"

"It's more than that," Aya told him, and her humour had all vanished, leaving behind only a smirk that Misaki thought looked somehow self-loathing. "They focus on a specific verse."

She took a deep breath.

" _'For as one flesh is wife and man, so does my son's blood stain thy hands. Thou thief! My crop thou steal'd from me, thus shall I sow again in thee'_."

The archaic language threw Misaki again, but not enough that he didn't sense something… creepy, in the verse. He got that Grungurtel, who he presumed was speaking there, was blaming Lady Blaulieb as much as her husband for his son's death, which was unfair, but Aya had said they'd got married so he must have forgiven her at some point and –

"It's a metaphor, Misaki," Aya told him. He saw the commonality she shared with Saruhiko in the cruel way she looked at him just then. "Crops, and sowing. When Grungurtel storms Lady Blaulieb's castle he demands she recompense him for the loss of his heir by providing him with a new one, and 'sows' that new crop in her then and there – marries her the next day so that the offspring is legitimate."

She leant in closer.

"These days they usually skip over that part, even when studying the text in depth at the Academy. Not really for polite company, you understand?"

Misaki stared at her, comprehending, and yet unable to believe he actually could be. Hadn't Aya said a moment ago this guy was considered a hero in the north? But what she was talking about…

"You mean," he asked, "He doesn't give her a choice in the matter?"

"Nope!" Aya said, pretending to be cheerful about it. "Lady Blaulieb's next lines are to beg for mercy, which Grungurtel is described as responding to with 'a steel visage'."

"But that's evil!" Yata argued. "He can't be a hero and do something like that!"

Aya laughed at him again, harshly. "Oh, Misaki – you're still so silly, what a lark! Grungurtel secures the stability of the region by forcing the matter with the Lady, once her first husband is dead, of course, and brings peace to the land until the next grand adventure he goes on, by which point Lady Blaulieb has become a loving, faithful wife and borne him the first of many children. Happily ever after."

"No, that's wrong!"

"It's how the story goes, Misaki. And people think that's how Munakata sees poor Saruhiko: a field he can grow a new family out of and spit in Niki's face at the same time." She tilted her head, turned more thoughtful. "But I don't think that's all they're talking about when they mention Lady Blaulieb. Say, ickle Misaki; did you hear a certain rumour about my cousin? It had spread through both infantries last I heard, even my new chum Seri asked me about it."

Reeling from the idea that people thought such disgusting things about Saruhiko and Munakata and somehow thought it constituted 'happy ever after', Yata still felt his heart plummet when he heard those words.

'A certain rumour'.

A 'really disgusting' rumour, as that awful Omega girl had told her friend, while Yata had been outside, hoping Saruhiko wasn't listening to it being repeated. It really wasn't for Omegas' ears. It wasn't for anyone's ears, it was…

 

*~*~*

 

_It was almost poetic, really, how the two or so days a year of rain that Ashrock saw (it always seemed like two compared to how it had been in Westermont) had happened on such a day as that._

_The war crimes tribunal._

_One of many, actually. Far too many. But this one stuck out in Yata's mind as 'the' tribunal, the one when he'd finally reached breaking point listening to the feeble excuses of his own former countrymen as they mumbled pretexts for their savagery against the Redfields Green Belt. Lord Izumo hadn't succeeded Kagutsu's empty seat at that stage, but he'd been poised to as he'd handled these trials, even in the heart of Homra rather than their northern neighbour._

_He wished it had been because of the criminals themselves he'd had to be taken, screaming, from the room by Lord Mikoto himself._

_The ones who had been there for him to scream at, anyway._

_And Lord Mikoto had been there. He'd been far more intent than usual, having scraped up a much larger group of the scum than usual, it having been scant weeks since Tenrou Point had been destroyed – a travesty he'd seemed far more upset about than Captain Munakata for some reason._

_"Don't think it's always what it seems, Yata," Lord Mikoto had told him._

_It still bothered him._

_" – contravening the Treaty of Dresden, in which it states no prisoner of war under the age of twelve may be executed for any reason," Lord Izumo had been saying, deceptively temperate in his reading of the charges. "Including further counts I have recorded, contravening the second subsection of that clause, which states it shall be considered that 'execution' is defined as 'caused to die by direct order', and the fourth subsection, which confirms the denial of bodily sustenance, or the imposing of conditions 'no person could reasonably be expected to survive', shall fall under the caveat of 'caused to die' mentioned above."_

_Lord Mikoto had been in a darker mood again. Much darker than he'd been in months, having had an unusually bright spell preceding Tenrou Point. It had made Yata anxious, and anxiety had made him mouth off,_

_"Oh, for fuck's sake!" and jump up from his chair. "We all know what the word 'killed' means, and we all know he killed those people; give me a good mace and I'll take care of this asshole here and now!"_

_The asshole in question had flinched back. More than twice Yata's age, in the black and purple of Fushimi Niki's aeronauts, the muscled, balding man had been unknown to him – not a regular of the Westermont court so probably a career soldier. It boiled Yata's blood to think he might have passed through the same Midlands airports during his training that he'd later dropped explosives on and ruined._

_"Patience, Yata," Lord Izumo had said with a smile. "Otherwise Mikoto's northern friends will think he's uncivilised."_

_He'd meant Munakata – from north of 'The South' if not actually from 'The North'. Lord Mikoto had smirked, then glanced at the cowering Lieutenant._

_"I don't think even the Imperials expect much civility towards those who were at Tenrou Point," he'd said._

_There had been representatives from the Aeronauts in the room – not Munakata himself, but two of his subordinates and Moonfalls natives, Doumyoji and Kamo. That even the former had remained in stony silence for the proceedings had said it all about how they felt about the situation._

_That guy kneeling on the floor before them had cringed again and protested with the same excuse they'd all heard fifty times at least that day._

_"Be reasonable, Lord Kusanagi! Do you have any idea what happens to those who disobey Lord Fushimi!?"_

_Yata had been sick to death of that argument. Sick to_ death _. But if he could have gone back and kept his mouth shut…_

_"Fuck you, you old piece of shit!" he'd snarled. "You don't have to tell me something like that! But I'll tell you this: I disobeyed that fucker, and if more of you assholes had had the guts to do the same you wouldn't have had to worry about what he'd do to you!"_

_The man's eyes, red from exhaustion, had switched focus to him, ignoring the roar of agreement from the crowd._

_"I know who you are, Yata Misaki. And that's all very well and good for someone who was able to take their family with them somewhere else to say. But mine are still in Ironpeak and I have an Omega son to think about – everyone knows Fushimi Niki raped his_ own _son; gods above know what he'd do to mine!"_

_The worst part of hearing that, thinking back on it, had probably been how some members of the gathering had made dismissive grunts so quickly that they had to have already heard that story._

_He remembered how a blast of incredulous laughter had left his throat._

_"What?" he'd said._

_Some of those present may have heard that story already, but not so Lord Izumo, or Lord Mikoto, or the two Aeronauts whose eyebrows had raised and exchange glances. Lord Izumo had stepped back as if from a curveball and looked straight towards Yata, and worriedly, like what the cowering man before them had said had actually been true._

_Lord Mikoto had stood up. That had been the only thing that had stopped Yata from flying off the rail there and then._

_Because how dare the man say something like that. How dare he imply something like that might have happened to Saruhiko. It couldn't have._

_Yata would have saved him from something like that._

_"Forgive me, sir," Lord Izumo had said, quickly once he'd regained his bearings. "But that's news to us. Is this something widely known throughout the Westermont regiments?"_

_"Everyone knows it," the man had insisted. "He did it in front of an audience and everything, had him dragged in for disobedience and raped him over the meeting table just to prove to everyone that he would – the man's a maniac; there's no one safe around him!"_

_"Shut up," Yata had whispered, too quietly for even himself to hear._

_Lord Izumo had had the more appropriate response._

_"I see. Sceptical as I am considering Hisui Nagare has not yet broken off the engagement between Fushimi Saruhiko and Goujou Sukuna as far as I know, I must ask: after hearing about this… well, I really don't know what to call it, but after hearing about this you decided to continue fighting, and killing, for the sake of a man who would force himself on his own son, instead of rescuing that son and having him replace his father?"_

_The man had choked out a single, vicious laugh._

_"Don't get me wrong, that son is still his_ father's _son. There was more than enough said about Sir Saruhiko being a little shit before he got fucked by his own father; gods know how depraved his mind has become now –"_

_This awful, inhuman, screeching noise had filled the room, straight from Yata's own lungs. For all they'd all called him 'the Crow' it was only then he felt he'd truly flown, over the distance between him and the sack of shit trying to make excuses for himself, and saying… saying such filthy, unspeakable… lies…_

_Kamamoto had told him later that he'd never seen a man punched so far across a room with a single blow, but Yata had never been able to feel pride in that, nor even in the fact that Lord Mikoto himself, the strongest man on the continent or Yata's hair wasn't red, had struggled to pull him off the fucker._

_Because it hadn't helped one bit. Not Saruhiko, nor to convince the desperate voice in his head insisting it had to all be lies. Nor to quiet the one that said yes, that was something someone like Niki would have done._

_He'd screamed and clawed against Lord Mikoto's arms like an animal in the stark, unnatural silence of the room as it had been then. The tribunal had been suspended, and Yata had next come to his senses in Lord Mikoto's own chambers, as the duke had pulled his hand away from where they'd been covering Yata's eyes to calm him._

_"Hey," he'd said. "You my vanguard again yet?"_

_Thank the gods that voice could always remind him of what was really important._

_"Lord Mikoto," he'd said, through tears that had been falling suddenly, thick and fast._

_"Hey," he'd said again. "Look at me." Somehow, he'd been able to smile. "You can't see me with those tears. Wipe them off and look at me, Yata."_

_Hearing his name clinched it. He'd rubbed his hand viciously against his eyes and stood up straight, fighting to keep from falling back into tears again._

_Tears weren't for knights, after all, and he'd been new at that back then._

_"There," Lord Mikoto had said. "Look, I'm not going to tell you 'everything is going to be okay', or shit like that, I don't know how it's going to be. I don't know if what that guy said was true; I'm told there's rumours out there that I've eaten babies, so there's that. And if it is, then I don't know what might happen to your friend." He'd paused. "Where are you now, Yata?"_

_Confused but faithful, Yata had replied, "In your rooms, Lord Mikoto."_

_He'd snorted. "And where are my rooms?"_

_Yata remembered frowning. "In the palace, at Mount Ashrock."_

_"Yeah." Lord Mikoto had nodded. "Not in Ironpeak, where Fushimi Saruhiko is. You do what you can do where you are, Yata, and not what you can't where you're not."_

_He'd sighed. Yata remembered thinking maybe he_ could _go to Ironpeak, sneak back there somehow, find where Saruhiko was and… but even then, seconds after the thought had entered his mind, he'd had the feeling that he'd never get past that 'and'._

_Lord Mikoto had as much as confirmed that feeling then._

_"That's why I'm here," he'd said. "Rounding up those assholes, and not in Moonfalls. I saw that guy sit next to his brother's wife as she was dying. I'd seen her before up at their house, she didn't look like that, but it was her." He'd averted his eyes. "The pain she must have been in. Even that guy didn't have the heart to tell her no one but the boy had made it out. They couldn't move either of them closer to each other with those burns. But there was nothing I could do there, so I'm here."_

_"Lord Mikoto…" At first Yata hadn't understood what he'd been talking about, but he'd realised soon enough who had been meant by 'that guy', though he was still unsure why Lord Mikoto had brought him up, and not, "But Lord Mikoto, for the sake of Lord Totsuka you…"_

_The duke had run his fingers though his hair. "Yeah. I did a lot of stupid shit for his sake. Stuff that almost got me killed and would have had Anna on the throne before her time and in the middle of a war. And none of it brought Totsuka back."_

_He'd looked piercingly at Yata, like the lion that dominated Suoh heraldry._

_"Don't make that mistake, Yata. You stay by my side, help me clean up these fuckers and then come with me when we make the move on Jungle and do what you can do."_

_There'd been a pause, but Lord Mikoto had known how to clinch his argument._

_"I'll have Izumo have his spies look into your friend's situation. Just don't stop being my vanguard again, got it?"_

_Oh, it hadn't stopped the fierce desire in Yata's heart, to go to Saruhiko's side and make sure he'd be all right, after all he owed him, and after their bond had been made tangible with those little wooden shells; the one that had burned against his heart then and in every battle, like Saruhiko was telling him to keep fighting._

_But in this, as in all things, he had done his utmost to obey Lord Mikoto. Because he owed him, too._

_Either way, he'd vowed to himself, Fushimi Niki, Lord Consort of Westermont, would not see the end of another year._

 

*~*~*

 

"It was just a rumour," Aya told him, sighing. "I'd have left it open, but Aya doesn't like to see Misaki-kins looking so upset."

Yata wished he could be relieved, when all he had was Aya's word to go on. He was old enough to know not to take her at her word.

"You know that for a fact," he muttered.

"Don't get me wrong," she replied. "There was an incident. I was in the house when it happened – right after Tenrou Point, when Saruhiko had done something he's usually too smart to do: challenged Niki."

She looked from side to side to make sure no one was near enough to hear them.

"I'll tell you, since you're Saruhiko's friend."

Was he? Even after all this?

He couldn't help himself and also checked for a clear coast.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, ickle Misaki," she said sweetly. "I'll even try to be brief so you don't have a brain aneurysm."

Yata wasn't entirely sure he knew what that was, but he understood the gist of it, and supposed he should be grateful. Aya laughed, a laugh filled with darkness.

"I don't even remember what that challenge was about. All I know is he ended up dragged into a war meet in front of Niki and all his evil little generals. Niki had him stripped naked and started… saying things, how he'd make a good bride if he stopped – "

She cut herself off quickly, a sudden look of fear like she'd almost revealed something damning on her face.

"If he stopped?" Yata asked. He, meanwhile, was trying to control his rage, knowing there was nowhere to direct it to.

Aya's hand twitched like it ached to curl into a fist.

"Oh, you know. If he stopped being Saruhiko and started being daddy's perfect princess – that sort of thing. Anyway, while all that had been going on someone had had the good sense to get the Countess, and she put a stop to the whole episode."

Kisa. That was who he could direct his rage at, now he thought about it. Even though –

"Did she make sure Saruhiko was okay?"

"Of course," Aya told him brightly. "Saruhiko's value is in his modesty, as well as in their money, that's what she said. Who knows what might have been said about him if things had gone further?"

"Further?" Yata exclaimed. "You mean, you think that fuck would actually have – "

"The rumour didn't come out of nowhere, Misaki," Aya interrupted him. "There were remarks made at the time. I sat in on Kisa interviewing a witness to try and apply damage control to the situation, he said Niki had made _other_ comments too. This was Niki, you know. He just loved to push the boundaries of what was considered within the scope of human immorality. Wonder how the construction of his memorial is going…"

That casual acceptance that there would be a memorial to such a repulsive man was just about all Yata could stand to hear. He jumped up off of the wall and stared Aya in the eyes.

"How can you just sit there and talk about it like that – Saruhiko is your family, why didn't you do anything about it!?"

Her expression became distinctly cold.

"I did," she said. "Even though Auntie told me not to, I brought the matter up with Duke Hisui the next time I saw him. Two weeks later Niki was sent out to try and take Mount Claret, and two weeks after that your glorious leader was dusting his ash from the halls of his volcano. Or did you think it was an accident the Lightning Corps didn't arrive in time to bail him out?"

That was what had happened? True or not, it hardly exonerated Hisui of his own crimes, especially since Yata doubted he would have done such a thing for Saruhiko's sake. But before Yata could ask further, Aya added –

"But where does Misaki get off on saying things like that about me? They say just as much about Suoh as they do about Fushimi Niki."

"Those are lies!" Yata snapped at her. "I know Lord Mikoto, I know—"

"And what was that I heard about a little incident involving the Minato twins and Ginstein Cathedral? Something about forcing the temple acolytes to walk naked through the villages? Well, the Grey-Landers don't worship Capitol gods, so I suppose it's okay."

"Kokujoji rebuked them for that," Yata said, if not with as much vigour as before, still thinking the rebuke for such a thing had been too light. "And I don't think it's okay; the people of the South don't worship those gods either – "

"Even Misaki himself," Aya continued, as if disappointed.

Yata stopped, and blinked. Even him? What did she mean, even him?

He knew well enough he had his faults, and was hardly 'gentle' as the proverbial gentleman knight should have been. But he didn't just let people get away when they did something wrong; not since that poor boy had been broken on the wheel in front of the palace.

"What?"

Aya smirked. "The Crow of Ironpeak rode hard to place the anti-airship artillery on the path to the Breach, they told me."

His fists clenched again, now with guilt. "I didn't know you were on those ships," he said.

"It wouldn't have mattered if you had. But you knew Marquis Goujou was, didn't you? A boy no older than you were when you left Westermont. And Saruhiko's fiancé."

Wait.

Was _that_ why Saruhiko had been so cold to him earlier?

Seeing the realisation on his face, Aya chuckled  and slid off the wall herself.

"I suppose you didn't think there was any great love between them, since the marriage was arranged and there was an age gap. But it wasn't as big as that between Saruhiko and Munakata, and they were both prodigies from allied families and by that time knew each other well enough. Don't tell me that it slipped your mind when you saw him, Misaki? Or are you just as stupid as he's always said?"

Was he?

Was he really that stupid?

He'd forced himself to speak condolences for Saruhiko's 'loss' of his father, had never even considered doing so for his fiancé. His real fiancé – and not a stupid boy who'd given him a cheap trinket and not even known what he was doing.

Saruhiko had deserved someone much smarter, much more graceful, more competent… just someone _better_ than Yata was.

He saw Aya cock her head and then lower her shoulders, averting her eyes like she might have regretted saying what she just had.

But she was right, wasn't she?

For the first time, the pendant on his chest felt heavy, like it longed to leave him.

 

*~*~*

 


	6. The Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, that took a long time... don't worry, I have five hundred excuses you don't care about as to why :)
> 
> In this chapter, Munakata's skill in making nice with Saruhiko is matched only with his lack of skill in doing the same with Suoh. Also, in true Game of Thrones fashion, the newlyweds have sex. Through their clothes. :D

 

*~*~*

 

 

There was something about the look on the young Aeronaut's face when she removed the corset that Saruhiko found himself disliking. But he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Oh my…" she breathed out, shocked and by that look not in a good way. "Wait there, your grace, I'll fetch something to salve you – it was tied much too tight and there are welts where the whalebone has dug in."

"Don't bother," he told her without thinking. "They'll heal on their own."

They had before. Granted, they hadn't been this bad before, but what was the worst that could happen? Scars? Why, then he might not have presented his new husband with as pretty a picture as he could have, what a tragedy.

For a moment the woman looked like she wanted to protest, but after some dithering she put the corset on the side with a nod and hastened to the wardrobe.

The suite was large and lavish as one would have expected; the bed large enough for the duke to have deflowered half a dozen brides and he dared not sit down on the bedspread now he was starting to produce lubrication, lest he embarrass himself by showing Munakata a wet spot when he came back.

His heat had not reached the stage where he would usually have been in pain – he gave that another hour or two, nor yet was he plagued with the desperate need to be touched, especially in embarrassing places, but the initial numb feeling was definitely there already, and would soon become a sensitivity, then a craving.

Any second now the Beta was going to smell it on him and probably run off to tell the duke. How utterly embarrassing.

"Here you go, your grace."

The girl returned with a white bedding gown, much like the one he'd worn for his test but not as simple; in brushed-cotton lined silk with a lace-ruffled front, cuffs and collar, embroidered all over with paisley in a very light blue, and loose below the hip-line; for obvious reasons.

Saruhiko took it from her before she could do something silly like offer to help him into it – he was much taller than her and she would have needed a stool or something to stand on. He pulled it on easily over the already unbuttoned wedding garment, and with as little awkwardness as possible pulled his arms out of the sleeves of the previous gown and pulled it down beneath the new one.

This was not done without pain; without the corset the hateful thing constricted around him to the point of tearing, practically scraping against the welts, but the softness of the new one (though it was snug) felt much better. He stepped out of the wedding gown and the comparatively awful shoes and left them for the Beta to pick up.

"I've had a bowl of warm water and solution prepared on the table for you, your grace," she said, "if you would like to remove the make-up."

She gestured towards it and Saruhiko acknowledged with a click of his tongue, walking over towards it.

"Would you like any assistance?" asked the girl.

"I'm fine," he told her.

She curtseyed. "In that case I shall let his grace know you'll be ready soon."

Whatever else she was at least swift out the door. He supposed now he was left to his thoughts it had been discourteous to feel annoyed with her for any reason – or no reason; she'd not done anything wrong and he hadn't even had the decency to remember her name when she'd given it to him. The epitome of a spoiled noble Omega, he was turning out to be.

He picked up the white cloth the Beta had provided with the water and dipped it in, thinking the gentle warmth of the water and the coolness it left behind might have felt nice on his bruises after all. Too late for that now, he wasn't taking anything off until he had to.

It did feel good to wipe off the make-up, and amusing to see the black streaks run down from the eye-shadow and think how much better it would have been to have been married looking like that. Unfortunately, such trivial thoughts could only occupy his mind for moments.

Which eggshell in his head to walk over first? His new husband, he supposed, and wasn't that a thought – him, married. Married to a man he knew hardly anything about except that he had every reason to hate his new bride, was probably more than Saruhiko could handle, and – and this was the part he'd really been trying to ignore since it was so utterly meaningless – was ridiculously handsome.

It was just that when he'd imagined his working-class conservative war-hero Midlands Alpha, he'd had some stiff, battle-scarred giant with mutton-chops and a square jaw in his head, not a guy who looked like he'd stepped out of a fairy-tale.

Not that he had any hopes that the guy's inner character reflected the outer; he'd known Hisui and Yukari both well enough to know that was stupid – not to mention his own wonderful parents. It had just thrown him for a loop.

Like Aya's reappearance.

And Misaki's.

Oh, yes. That was what his mind really begged him to return to. Even though there was no point as the only thing he could say had gone contrary to his expectations had been Misaki not spitting insults at him before storming off. There were oh-so-many he could have chosen, after all. Instead he'd had overflowing praise: not for Saruhiko, of course, but for the great Lord Suoh Mikoto, Duke of Homra, who'd regarded Saruhiko as so much trash during the surrender negotiations. Not that he'd had no reason to, if the magnates of the realm were made aware of his true worth they'd only hate him more for it.

Maybe it would have been better that way.

As the last traces of pure white from his face made the water in the bowl opaque as milk, Saruhiko towelled off the excess and observed his face in the mirror. It was much pinker than usual, as the fever-like temperature of the aptly-named heat crept up on him. He wasn't yet as hot as he would be, but he was certainly feeling it.

And then, the door opened.

It used to be that only two people would ever open his door without warning. Not Kisa, she probably had to have her appearance announced by messenger to her fur coats when she went to open her closet. Aya had always been bold, and in that respect unseemly in her forwardness. But of course far more often than her the culprit would be the one who needed no explanation.

Obviously, it wasn't Him. Though Saruhiko tensed up instinctively it had also become an instinct that he did not cry out at such an occurrence, trying as best he could to not show weakness. There was no reason to assume such a strategy would not be wise in this case too.

Sure enough, the man who entered, stopped, cocked his head like an eagle at the sight of Saruhiko and turned back to close the door softly behind him was his husband: looking and moving like a man who couldn't possibly exist.

"My apologies, my lord," he said, bending his neck towards him an inch or two. "As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm less than used to expecting another in my rooms."

Saruhiko took far longer than he'd have liked to put the towel he was holding down; his fingers were curled tighter around it than he'd realised.

"Apparently even when you sent them there, and had a servant come remind you that they were ready," he muttered, bitterly.

Munakata bowed again, much deeper this time. "I beg your forgiveness," he said. "You are quite right."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Whatever."

Now was the moment. Now the moment, and he had no idea what to expect. Oh, obviously his education was not lacking in either biological or social understanding of the reproductive act, but what he could expect from this one man; this duke, this aeronaut, this gardener's son – this victim of Niki's cruelty as much as anyone – that was all up in the air.

And it frustrated him that things were like this. He had to assert some kind of control over this situation, couldn't just react to whatever Munakata chose to do next and wait for the final hand to be revealed. He balked at the idea of making the first move to the inevitable coupling, but that was only one part of the relationship that would in practice be controlled in every aspect by Munakata. Outside of the immediacy of this moment, it was much lower down his list of concerns than other things.

He needed an opportunity to be proactive in his new environment, and he needed it as soon as possible, before the heat began to cloud his judgement.

"I trust you were not too fatigued by the events of the night?" asked his husband, just like the perfect gentleman Kisa and most of the nobility thought him anything but. "Yoshino-kun told me you were somewhat troubled by your gown."

So far all Saruhiko was finding was extreme boredom, but he was wary of it because had he not been standing there when the man before him had defied all protocol and taken that idiotic giltvine off his shoulders at the start of the ceremony? That had certainly grabbed his attention.

Right now he was more concerned by what was possibly quite the opposite of fatigue, as the heat between his thighs began to mount in response to the close proximity of the Alpha.

"I'm fine, my grace," he said using the most proper address in a fit of irony.

He could sense the tension mounting. Normally it would have taken longer for him to become this impatient, but the heat, and Misaki, and everything else that had happened: they had worn his composure thin.

Munakata continued to bestow upon his new bride the very blandest in polite greetings.

"You do not require anything from the kitchens, do you? I noticed you didn't seem to care for the wedding feast."

There it was. The moment to make the first step in seeing what the worst he could expect from this man really was. Saruhiko seized it with the bitterest of relish and a sweet smile.

"It was overcooked." His grin widened. "Like your family."

Having uttered the words thoughtlessly, but deciding with a single thought he did not regret them, he braced himself  for the blow…

… that didn't come. Munakata raised his hand, but did not take the step towards him, only extending an index finger and tutting – and almost playfully so, while behind his fine-framed spectacles the deep dark eyes alighted with, and Saruhiko could hardly believe it, amusement.

"Why, Sir Saruhiko," he replied. "That was quite the terrible thing to say."

Instead of coming towards Saruhiko, with hostile intent, Munakata moved away from him, towards the bed and the table beside it. Saruhiko was almost too confused to speculate – had he not said what he'd thought he'd just said? Had he overestimated his own nerve so much!? Or was Munakata just going for a knife? – as his husband opened the top drawer and pulled out a familiar case, enamelled silver with pretentious, inappropriate decoration.

_Shit_ , thought Saruhiko. _The white ointment._

He was seized with a sudden fear.

"Not so terrible a strategy," Munakata continued, "for learning the depths of a man's character in the space of a few moments – that I'll grant you. No doubt this," he gestured with the case of ointment, "would have kept whatever you discovered secret. With that in mind I shall assume whoever slipped you this contraband did so only with the best of intentions."

An obvious lie. He knew exactly who had procured the substance for him and why – through spies or deduction Saruhiko didn't know, but he leant towards the latter because Kisa was nothing if not careful.

"Have no fear, I shall see it safely disposed of. There won't be any occasion for you to use it, if I am to be the judge of such things."

Which meant?

Damn it, he couldn't think like this! And Munakata wasn't done, as things suddenly took a turn Saruhiko had had no notion to expect.

"In the meantime, let us dispense with the tiresome act of verbal dancing around each other and address the far more important issues at hand. Within the month I mean for us to take up residence at Tenrou Point and attend to the various devastations the region has suffered."

"What?" Saruhiko said. "You mean, we're not staying in the Capitol?"

"Of course not. Not when I'm needed elsewhere."

After opening his mouth to protest that the state Tenrou Point was in now as far as he was aware was far from up to supporting the lifestyle of a duke, he quickly closed it again. Munakata was more than used to not living the lifestyle of a duke. Yet it still seemed odd he wouldn't be taking the opportunity to try it out.

What that would mean for him though, living in amongst Niki's victims every day –

"We lost three of the eight grain stores meant to see the duchy through the winter," Munakata went on. "Which is fast approaching. A fourth was heavily damaged and Imperial law means a full supply of charitable grain from Capitol stores can only be given to those who are in full-time employment and their families With so many places of business destroyed and between a third and half the population displaced, this is entirely unfeasible."

He was… what? Wait, what? What did any of this have to do with Saruhiko?

"The infrastructure also, is a major problem. Already fights have broken out between those trying to collect timber from the central forest and those who live there as a habit. A death has been attributed to this tension, as I was informed only this morning. But the fact remains: we cannot ship the necessary materials to construct enough permanent shelters where they're needed before the winter comes, and even if we stripped the forests bare we would not be able to construct adequate housing in time."

Munakata turned to look deep into Saruhiko's eyes, eyes whose expression he could only imagine were wide with confusion as he heard these facts laid out in this setting. What was Munakata getting at with all this? That with such damage done at the hands of his family a simple beating wasn't going to cut it in regards to retribution? Why did he not just come out and say it then?

"These are only the most immediate of the problems which, as my husband, you will be part responsible for helping me to solve, my lord consort." He smiled. "I realise I've put you on the spot in asking you this, but I'd like to know – what are your first thoughts as regards such solutions?"

Saruhiko's lips parted, but it was a while before even a basic sarcastic retort came to mind.

"Help you?" he murmured. Maybe he would have expected it if he'd been betrothed to an ally – one who wasn't a complete psycho like Sukuna – but why should Munakata trust him with any such responsibility? "Shall I not just help you by acting as stress relief?" he asked.

His husband didn't miss a beat before replying, "I do not require 'stress relief', as you put it. But please, take your time. We have all night, after all."

Had Niki said it Saruhiko would have known to think of an answer fast. With this man, he sensed actual sincerity behind it, which surprised him because the only person he'd ever had such a feeling about before had been Misaki, and the two men were as night and day. Perhaps Munakata just gave off that vibe; it would have served him well in his climb to the top.

As for the question, Saruhiko decided to take the few extra moments to come up with a fairly neutral answer – he still wanted Munakata to underestimate him, but he drew the line at making himself seem like a complete idiot.

At length he observed, "I take it the biggest potential catastrophe in the list you gave me was the first; the lack of food. If the Empire will only give emergency rations to the employed, then those without employment would be well off being put to work on the reconstruction efforts, if such a thing can be organised."

"It could," said Munakata. "With some difficulty. But the organisation is not the problem there."

"The lack of having anything to build with," Saruhiko added needlessly. "And stripping the forests is not a good idea, in the long run."

"No it isn't," Munakata agreed.

It was just then that, with his mind put to the task even only so far as that basic answer could be given, he found it suddenly shooting out like vines towards the possibilities that could address this problem. In seconds it was like he'd forgotten all about the awful situation he was in, the same feeling he might have had when faced with a captured missive from the enemy he'd been asked to decode, or the engines of a standard airship he was to make run faster.

That path, that feeling, bred so much danger in its wake for him that he should have shut the doors to those vines and presented Munakata with the submissive doll his mother wanted him to be.

But such was the danger, that he didn't even think of that, and instead the construct of another kind began to grow, with radical connotations that may have passed his mind before and been dismissed as fantasy.

Now though, as unlikely as it was that Munakata would listen…

"For materials," he said, "what you need is to be trading with Jungle and the Grey Lands; the Great Forest is so huge that even all the chaos of the war hasn't made a dent in it, and it's better quality for building anyway. As for stone, that's hard enough to damage. Mother says with Gojou dead the duchy of Jungle will fall into Hirasaka Douhan's hands?"

"Within the month, likely," Munakata confirmed.

"Good, she's sensible enough. As for the Grey Landers they've already suffered through two years of hard winters and the province is rapidly falling into chaos; re-establishing trade links will be a boon for them either way."

"And with what would we trade for Grey Lands' stone?"

Saruhiko frowned. "You said up to half of Moonfalls will be on emergency rations this winter?"

Munakata nodded.

"Put the entire region on them and give the excess to the Grey Lands; none of your people will starve and if they have shelter they won't freeze either. Fair trade. Hirasaka will play along on the knowledge that when you become Emperor, you'll make some kind of reparation," he waved his hand.

He hadn't gotten to the good part yet.

"Indeed," said Munakata. "With the sparse population of the Grey Lands doing that would leave just about enough food to go around. But that all still leaves the problem of the execution. How is Jungle wood or Grey Lands stone going to be transported to the regions that need it in time for it to make any difference? Airships make thousand-mile journeys in days but most can hardly support their own weight and their crew's when the wind is down, let alone carry tonnes of stone. Such trade would normally be done by sea, only Moonfalls is landlocked."

Despite himself Saruhiko felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Well if you can't go by air or sea, go by land. I'm sure you know what a rail-car is, your grace?"

"A small cart with a steam-engine attached," Munakata replied. "Some mines use them to transport ore to the surface so they don't have to bring horses underground."

"And there's no reason they can't be replicated on a much wider scale. My mother has already agreed to reparations, part of that can be supplying iron for the rails; the wood for the tracks we can get on site when it passes into Jungle, and from the Central forest for the rest, it will be only a fraction of what would have been needed to build the houses. A rail-car, with a train of carts behind it filled with cargo, will be able to move with an engine only half as powerful as an airships but with ten or twenty times what they can carry. Granted it won't be as fast," he rolled his eyes remembering how making the same proposals he'd been told there was no point when airships could carry people far more efficiently – which was wrong also, but never mind that now, "Four days to an airship's one, but that's still ten times faster than you could get the material by horse-and-cart."

He paused, making a quick calculation.

"And any idiot can learn to lay tracks within a day, so all your unemployed wretches will have something to do. If a tenth of the population was put to work on it they'd get from the border to the nearest Grey Lands quarry in a month. Although we'd have to find an opportune path to lay the tracks over and I don't see any way it wouldn't cut through the Green Belt."

"Much of which has been salted on our side," said Munakata, "making it useless for farming anyway, so building this… rail-road would cause no more damage than has already been done."

Burned _and_ salted too? Saruhiko wondered if that had been Niki's work, or just the general policy of all Hisui's people; he wouldn't have been surprised either way.

Then Munakata added casually;

"Well, I can't see any major downsides to this plan. We'll start tomorrow morning."

"You'll what?" asked Saruhiko.

"The preliminary meetings, I mean," said Munakata. "Clearly we won't be able to start work on the rails. I'll have my Counts called together to ascertain all the necessary components and Yoshino can begin drafting the proposals to Lady Hirasaka. The Grey Lands quarries will have to be contacted individually, I imagine."

Like a lightning strike the image of Niki smiling at him with _"I'm so very proud of you, my son,"_ flashed across Saruhiko's mind – but he was not one to be fooled twice, at least not when he had no relationship with this man – however terrible. The other shoe was going to drop, even if all the duke said now was, "… just kidding!", though with someone this inscrutable he feared it would be much worse than that.

It only took him a moment to decide to head Munakata off on his own terms.

"Glad to see you devote so much consideration to these things," he sneered. "You do know there's no way it will be finished on time to rebuild the entire Duchy by winter, right?"

Munakata shrugged. "That was impossible from the beginning," he said. "And believe me, I'm not unaware of the multitudes of costs and provisions that must be made in such an undertaking: the entire Imperial fleet had to be re-constructed over the course of the war – twice, to cope with the modifications the rebels had made to their own vessels."

Saruhiko really hoped he didn't flinch there.

"But I certainly haven't heard a better idea than yours," Munakata told him plainly. He then narrowed his eyes a touch, tilting his head in a way that made Saruhiko suddenly shy, like he was being looked at by a predator even knowing it wasn't one that attacked humans. "Yes," said the duke. "Yes, I think this might work out rather well."

The mere idea that perhaps he could say the same made Saruhiko's legs tremble a little. It should never have come to his mind, especially not in these early stages, but while he knew so little about his husband and while that little only raised more questions the strangest ideas were coming to his head.

Especially when, ironically, the only person who'd not laughed at his ideas of trans-continental rail-cars when he'd expressed them before had been Niki. Probably he'd been imagining all the people he could run over with them, and for all he knew Munakata was –

He sat down without thinking about it and immediately regretted it. The slight pressure of the bed against his posterior, which had been gradually growing more sensitive while his mind had been preoccupied with Munakata, made his back arch from the unexpectedness of the sensation. An embarrassing whimper left his lips, his hands moving either side of himself to try and lift himself enough to decrease the pressure.

On instinct his head began to turn to observe Munakata's reaction, but at the last split-second he decided he'd rather not see and looked sharply in the other direction. His breathing quickened. A small wave of warmth passed over his face, and a shiver passed down every part of his body, being felt particularly in his groin.

There was a slighter pressure on his cock when it began to stiffen against the soft folds of the gown. Behind him, he heard the other man's footsteps as they came towards him, around the bed 'til he was at his side – felt the warmth from the proximity of his husband, his Alpha, as he bent down close to his neck.

Like it was no longer in his control that neck bared itself to the Alpha, and his mind flashed back to the brief, hot nip of his skin that had made him lawfully the other man's mere hours ago. Somehow now it seemed like it would be a good idea to feel those teeth again.

"Ah," said Munakata. "Perhaps it would be better to postpone the meeting, then."

Saruhiko clenched his fists in the bedspread.

"It's early," he growled out, referring to the heat Munakata had just realised was happening. "It wasn't supposed to be until next week."

When Munakata sat down next to him his heart began to race like a hundred horses across a field, and he was both nervous but at the same time struck with anticipation.

"I understand it's not uncommon for a heat to come on early when an unbound Omega is presented with a compatible Alpha," the duke said.

" _Compatible?_ " Saruhiko repeated with a laugh. "Don't you think that would be just a little bit ironic?"

He still had the wherewithal to marvel at how strong the impulse suddenly was to throw himself into the Alpha's arms and rub up against him like an animal. Gods above, he'd read about this but to feel it in person… he supposed he should have been grateful Munakata hadn't turned into as mindless a rutting beast as he'd heard an Alpha would the second he'd realised it.

At any rate he only answered Saruhiko's question with a brief silence before he changed the subject.

"Tell me, my lord, how would you like to proceed?"

Frustrated, Saruhiko found he had no answer for that other than bilious sarcasm.

"I don't know, my grace – back in Ironpeak I usually let my Lord Father decide how we'd go about it."

Munakata released a small sigh.

"I see your sense of humour will take some getting used to, dearest," he said lightly. "Never mind. No marriage is perfect, after all."

Now there was an understatement…

The duke went on, and now even his voice was sending shudders that ached for touch throughout his body. "Tell me, I understand even a noble Omega's education is somewhat sheltered in the far west. Are you familiar with the Convention of the Union, as set down by the Church?"

That would be the same Convention Kisa had laughed at thought of Munakata knowing anything about. Showed what she knew – that oh-so-wise mother of his.

"Yes," he said, shortly. The 'nobles' Convention seemed pretty laughable in context of the various satires of it Saruhiko had also read: complete idiots trying to follow its instructions on how to properly have sex when the book was too prudish to use plain terminology – preferring to say things like _'instrument of life'_ rather than 'cock', but if you understood that much then it was pretty easy to follow.

And it was something that would lend a sense of predictability to the occasion that Saruhiko sorely desired at that moment.

"Do you have any objections to using it as a frame of reference, at least for tonight?"

This was a harder thing to agree to, to actively consent even when he saw no better alternative. But he took the plunge, shaking his head reluctantly.

"Very well," said Munakata. "The Convention is not written specifically for heat, so we may have to improvise at some stage, but I assure you I will do everything I can to make this as easy as possible for you, my lord."

With the way his legs were struggling against the power of his will to spread open before the Alpha next to him he had the feeling the heat was what was going to make the experience easy.

Nevertheless he nodded, and crawled up onto the bed on his hands and knees. His body seemed to like that position too.

When he felt the bed depress behind him with the movements of the other, he resisted the urge to turn his head back to try and see what Munakata was doing, shutting his eyes as the Convention advised and already feeling annoyed that he was doing what that stupid book told him to of his own free will.

Then he waited.

"All right," Munakata said, at length. "I'm going to put my hand on your legs now, to lift the gown."

These words sent a burst of impatience through Saruhiko that made him click his tongue. Though it had no frame of reference for what was about to happen his body seemed to want it, urging him to encourage the Alpha behind him by backing up 'til they were flush and rubbing his ass against him. Saruhiko was pretty sure that if he did such a thing he'd come off as a desperate slut – the Convention for one thing was always quite clear that the Alpha should be the one to make all moves; Saruhiko had basically fulfilled his end just by assuming the position.

Still, having the gown lifted steadily past his thighs caused more conflict – although the Alpha was according to Convention supposed to hold the gown so that he couldn't actually see what was beneath, which would have been vulgar, it still bared the one part of him that no one but his physicians had seen to a stranger; as much as that part seemed to want to be bared.

The small pressure against it that merely sitting had brought had made his hole ache for more. He endured another wave of heat shivering down his spine and fought to keep from bucking his hips up and down as his legs trembled.

"Now I'm going to check how ready you are for me," said Munakata, gently. "It may feel a little strange at first, but hopefully by now –"

"Are you going to narrate the whole thing too?" Saruhiko hissed.

Munakata paused, fingertips stilling where they'd been gently trailing up Saruhiko's thigh. "My apologies," he said, sounding amused.

He pressed a touch harder along the skin of his buttocks before reaching the crevice, whereupon Saruhiko tensed up and his heart felt like it was going to punch straight through his chest. His movement only made the duke pause for a moment, before running his touch up and down around the centre that Saruhiko could feel pulse with the need to be touched before he finally, and easily, slid one finger inside him.

It didn't hurt in the slightest, the slick he was producing copiously easing the way and flowing even freer at the stimulation, but somehow both partially eased and intensely aggravated the throbbing need he had to be touched there; both feelings increasing as Munakata rubbed his finger back and forth a few times before adding a second, also with ease.

His memory of the Convention had made it seem like that part would take a lot longer, but as Munakata had said, that hadn't been written with sex during heat in mind; thoughts that swiftly left him when Munakata took those fingers out after a few more thrusts and before Saruhiko could complain about how unsatisfied that made him feel, grabbed him by the hips and pulled them up so Saruhiko collapsed forward onto his elbows with a yelp.

He scrambled at the bedspread and turned his head around furiously.

"What the hell?" he snapped.

Munakata leant towards him so he could see his innocent-looking smile.

"So sorry, dear," he said. "It seems you will also have to get used to my sense of humour."

There was a glint of mischief suddenly in his eyes that disappeared as quickly as it came; Saruhiko found himself letting out a bark of laughter despite himself.

It would explain why he'd found his husband so confusing so far. The fact that he was a complete freak.

Made him a lot more appealing than the average noble, that was for sure.

"At this point I believe I am meant to say a prayer to the God of – "

"You can skip that part," Saruhiko said quickly.

"As you wish," said Munakata, sounding relieved. "But do tell me to stop if you find yourself in too much discomfort. First times can be difficult."

The man certainly had a knack for understatement. But as he'd had his hips pulled up Saruhiko had felt the first twinge in his lower back that in the course of his usual heat would have turned to blinding pain from the Venus cluster rubbing against his coccyx. After today, that would be a thing of the past, and he found himself thinking: _finally._

Soon enough, something hot and blunt was pressed against his cheeks. He started, and it occurred to him he hadn't actually seen the cock that was about to enter him – which was in keeping with the Convention, but he really wished he had. Another book he'd seen had had a drawing of a naked Alpha, their members when erect were supposed to be huge enough that if accurate it was probably best for his nerves that he couldn't see the thing.

The Alpha's cock behind him pushed forward, easily with the slick until he felt it bump up against his hole, where Munakata paused. Again the conflict of how the full weight of the cock excited the hole he felt throb even harder with need and the anxiety about the pain that was likely to come with it and everything else it meant outside the purely physical, all that made his heart beat even faster. The heat felt like it was going to melt his mind, and then…

… and then Munakata, having rubbed the head around to tease his hole open, took a firmer hold of his hips and began to push forward. The stretch was uncomfortable to say the least, but at the same time his body seemed eager to accommodate, and if Munakata was making any noise Saruhiko couldn't hear it over his own panting.

It happened much faster than he was expecting, given how enormous the thick head of his husband's cock felt; a few seconds at the most to get the head in followed by a sudden surge forward of about an inch that made him cry out in shock as much as in discomfort – he didn't know if it was painful enough to be called 'pain', as the head made its way inside him.

_Fuck,_ he thought, biting his lower lip. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. If this is what it feels like now how big is the knot going to get!?_

Even then, he felt his hole produce yet more slick to ease the way, opening up eagerly to receive the Alpha despite any pain. Munakata paused for only a moment once the head was in and then pushed in confidently, inch by inch, the heat and the pressure of his girth against the sensitive walls within sending small pulses of pleasure throughout Saruhiko's core and making his cock yearn to be touched until he felt the fabric of the Alpha's trousers against his ass.

Fuck. He had an Alpha's cock all the way inside him, ready to breed, and as the pain began to become overwhelmed with the incredible sensation of that hot, hard length rubbing up against the deepest part of him, he felt his hips began to buck back and forth, completely out of his control now and who gave a damn if it seemed slutty – he was in heat for fuck's sake and he finally had a cock in him, he needed to be knotted and bred, and the quicker the better.

Fuck.

He was beginning to lose himself to the heat, as he'd been told all Omegas would once their Alpha had claimed them. Though he'd never seen how it would be possible for him he'd never imagined how just the feeling of being filled would be so _amazing_.

Without warning, Munakata pulled his hips back, cock rubbing against Saruhiko's insides and making him gasp before he came forward again and Saruhiko sucked him back in, clamping down insistently as his own hips shook faster. Munakata responded by holding him firmly in one place, grip like unmovable stone before giving Saruhiko another, steady thrust.

Saruhiko felt another gush of wetness from him in response, smoothing the path for the Alpha further as he pulled his cock back so only the head was still inside before slamming back in with more force; this time striking some spot within him that made him cry out.

There was a slight hesitation, and just as Saruhiko was breathlessly uttering, "Please," Munakata thrust his cock out and in again, much faster than before and began to repeat the motion at that pace, every movement striking that place of immense pleasure and making him cry out over and over again as his whole body moved with the force.

At that point Saruhiko let go completely and eagerly met every thrust from his Alpha with a movement of his own, feeling himself get wetter and wetter as the pace he was being fucked accelerated steadily. His own cock became more and more sensitive between his legs, as all he could think about was being fucked and how he would feel with the Alpha's seed inside him.

He lost track of how long his upper body shook back and forth against the bed, while he was filled over and over, time passed slowly and quickly at the same time, and even though the strain of the position was causing him pain by the end he hardly cared. One thing he'd been hoping from with this heat was to get pregnant quickly so he wouldn't have to spread his legs again too soon, but now he was wondering if that might not be such a bad idea after all.

That end came with no warning but the fact that the Alpha sped up, fucking him even harder and making him scream every time he hit that spot as he felt the knot begin to swell inside him. He felt something shift, right at the end of an extremely powerful thrust that struck right against that most pleasurable spot and had him scream out longer and louder than before.

It was the longest, most intense orgasm he'd ever felt, spraying the inside of his gown from his cock but feeling even better in his ass, where the muscles clamped down and milked the cock within him for its seed.

Sure enough, a moment later the Alpha made just the slightest noise and gasped out, and Saruhiko felt the warmth of the ejaculate fill him up, his own orgasm still in its aftershocks gulping greedily at what it received.

After that his awareness became fuzzy. He didn't know how long it took for the knot to come down but when it did and his Alpha slipped out of him he found himself growling, his body demanding more.

He remembered feeling so hot that the gown had to come off, and feeling too hot even with nothing on as he'd pulled in annoyance at the Alpha's clothes, facing him. He remembered being fucked again, and again, back and front and eventually with hot, bare skin against his and lips and fingertips teasing his nipples as he came again and again on the Alpha's cock.

At some point that night he had been put into water, its coolness soothing his heat and the welts along his body he'd actually forgotten by that point, and remembered only being annoyed that the Alpha was outside the water, wiping him down, and not in with him, fucking him.

Maybe it had been before that he'd been bent over almost in half, far enough that he could finally see that cock as it had plunged in and out of him, looking so much bigger than even his imagination from before had thought, and the blue eyes dark as midnight above him staring with a look he'd understood then, but somehow wouldn't afterwards. In the primitive state his heat had reduced him to he remembered being only pleased that such a strong, virile Alpha was breeding him.

They would have strong, healthy children and command a wide and prosperous territory.

Their enemies would not contend against them.

It would be a fruitful, and secure partnership.

If only…

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

To say the night was cool would have been redundant; any night was cool in comparison to the sweltering environment that was the close proximity to an Omega in heat. Munakata had found it difficult to bear putting on the quilted dressing gown he wore now, even after sponging down to cool himself with the dregs of the bath he'd prepared for Fushimi Saruhiko.

'Saruhiko' he supposed, was what he should think of the one he was married to, if that was not too common for the status they both now held. According to the rules of etiquette, in public they were to refer to each other as 'my lord' or 'my lord husband', and 'my grace' respectively.

It was another thing they could discuss.

He'd left Saruhiko in deep sleep following a much longer bedding than he'd been expecting – fortuitously so, of that there was no question – to have had the boy go into heat on the wedding night itself would be seen by the public as a good omen, even more so if a child came from it. But though he'd had experience with Omegas before he'd only studied second-hand the phenomena of heat, and he hoped everything had been performed adequately.

The rules of the Convention had had to be abandoned after the first knot, for one thing.

It was also a quiet night, out on the balcony that protruded from his outer chambers. In accordance with his wishes the Emperor had given him a room facing the water, so no crowds could gather beneath his window hoping for a peek at his bride, and a strict curfew had been instituted for the occasion.

One man, of course, had no compunctions about breaking such a curfew, and the stillness of the night was interrupted by the smell of smoke, drifting up from the floor below.

Munakata strolled to the balcony rail, leaned on it and over so he could see the balcony below and to the right, to where the scent was coming from. Catching sight of a familiar face, he sighed.

"I believe it was the Prime Minister who was given that room, Suoh. I suppose he's aware there's an uncultured Southern barbarian out on his balcony?"

Suoh smirked, golden eyes flickering up.

"If he was going to know that," he said, "then he'd have had to be in this room, and not in the room of the daughter of that Minister of Transport."

With a tut, Munakata rolled his eyes. "I must have been too distracted in recent times to have seen that liaison brewing."

"Yeah, I can't imagine what you might have had on your mind that kept you from studying all the sleeping around of Kokujoji's politicians."

He wasn't wrong, and there was something rueful in the way he said it; still annoyed at the nature of the occasion, probably. A moment later he tilted his head, eyes narrowed like he'd suddenly had a thought and was trying to figure something out, then he smiled again.

"You look like you came right out of the salon, Captain. Don't tell me you're going to leave your husband a virgin until you've had a long and proper courtship?"

Munakata blinked. He understood what Suoh meant to say, of course – than he looked to well-composed to have just been engaged in such _vigorous_ activity – but implied in that perhaps there was something else as well, like he'd have been pleased if that were the case. Perhaps because, as Munakata had to admit he concurred with, Suoh thought it would have been more proper if that had been the case. Say what you would about Suoh Mikoto's lack of propriety; in such matters he was far more so than most nobles, whatever rumours might have said about him fathering bastards all over the continent.

Such was what people expected of someone like him, so such was what was said. Unfortunately Munakata couldn't afford to have anything 'said' of him in this regard.

"To one who has never even seen a hairbrush it may seem that way, Suoh," he said, trying to keep up their usual rapport despite the feeling he was being chided. "But I was not about to allow anyone to doubt the veracity of my marriage." He glanced off over the water. "It has become more clear than ever to me that Sir Saruhiko belongs at my side."

_Where his talents will be put to good use._

_Away from those who would do him further harm._

… was not what Suoh understood from that remark. Or pretended he did.

"That good, was he?" he muttered.

It earned him a sharp look.

"I'll thank you to be as respectful as you're capable of when you refer to my lord husband, your grace."

Again, Suoh's eyes twitched like he was trying to figure something out by Munakata's reply, and he brought his cigarette to his lips and took another drag from it.

"My _sincerest_ apologies, your grace," he said sarcastically, knowing no doubt that propriety demanded Munakata address the words and not their tone.

"Thank you."

Once the awkward silence had descended, Munakata sighed and fell back on what he knew best; using logic to solve the problem of why Suoh was still so irritable about this whole thing and what would pacify him. The problem with that was, as he reminded himself even as another part of his mind tried to put the pieces into place, that Suoh typically defied reasonable attempts to understand or pacify him. It was a nature of his both attractive and a repellent to Munakata, and he found there was some kind of desperation clouding his own thoughts, like this might have been his last attempt at least for a considerable time to finally translate Suoh Mikoto to a comprehensible formula, like everyone else could be.

But desperation was not conducive to rational thought. He found himself dismissing Suoh's own protests for the marriage as the reason he was truly upset on instinct, though at the same time he felt they might have been connected. Connected to Suoh's so childish insistence that nobles should marry who they loved, as if they didn't already have enough privileges…

Ah. Now that might have explained it.

"Suoh," he asked, gently amused, "don't tell me you had hoped to reunite my husband with your knight and see their childhood affection defeat the odds? Being a romantic doesn't suit you."

One thing that was not difficult to figure out about Suoh was his deep devotion to his men, and Yata Misaki in particular – the young man was almost like a younger brother to him.

And it was natural, of course, to want your brother to achieve happiness. Suoh exhaled smoke and looked away – and had Munakata been right on the mark he imagined the reaction would have been more pronounced, so this was true but only a smaller part of what was really bothering him.

But what was that?

"I don't know if those two would be happy together," Suoh muttered. "But after all Yata – probably the other one too – after all they've been through, they should have had the chance to find out for themselves."

Such typical Suoh sentiment. It was a chore to keep from rolling his eyes, and kicking himself for not being able to figure out this man when it should have been so simple.

"Their 'chances' have been far more that the vast majority are afforded."

"Yeah? Ch. I'd say things must have gone well indeed for you to be being such a smug prick, but then you're always a smug prick, so whatever."

"And you are an infuriating buffoon," Munakata replied swiftly, "who I have no reason to confide in in regards to my marriage." _Except that there is no one else_. "Nevertheless to set your mind at ease I'll tell you this –"

Suoh snorted. "Such a generous guy."

" – the rumours spread throughout our forces concerning my husband were indeed false, at least to the degree those rumours had grown when we heard them." He'd knowledge enough to be able to check for himself moments before the consummation. "But Sir Saruhiko is still damaged, and I believe he needs someone capable of forming an effective strategy to take the task of… I shall not say fixing. Rather to teach him how to fix himself."

This admission seemed to spur Suoh away from his own prerogative of uncaring sarcasm to that of interest, and before he could ask, Munakata judged that it would not cause harm to tell him.

That, and perhaps also there was the fact that he wanted to tell.

"He made… vulgar reference to my family in an attempt to manipulate me into physically attacking him."

The mere blip of a feeling he supposed was 'pain' that had happened at that insult had been barely noticed. Why should it have been, when it had been so obvious the boy meant no offence to the dead, only the collection of intel through provocation? When it had been so obvious the boy had been absolutely terrified?

Too stunned to offer anger yet, Suoh blinked and asked him, "Why?" in uncharacteristic pure confusion. "To try and make people think you were some… abuser?"

Munakata shook his head. "He had white ointment all ready to stop such a thing."

"Fuck. Where would he even get that?"

"From his mother, I've no doubt."

If Suoh had been stunned before, he was speechless now.

"Quite," Munakata agreed with said sentiment. "The idea was, rather, that he would do the very worst thing he could possibly think of and gage the extremes of what risks would bring him what sufferings for the foreseeable future. It seems his expectations of me were quite low." He sighed. "But then, I'm sure he's known little good to use as comparison. Either way, do tell me, Suoh, is that the kind of mind your knight would know how to handle?"

"Is that the kind of mind you want Kai exposed to?" Suoh retorted.

Munakata frowned, realising the retort merited consideration, and thought over what he knew of the two in question so far. In particular he considered how Sir Saruhiko had acted having Kai so interested in him during the wedding dinner – neither contemptuous nor calculating in his expression, but almost scared. Horrified at the sight of his scars, but not disgusted, not with Kai at any rate.

There'd been a flash of guilt most would have said must have been by proxy for his father's actions. Munakata wasn't sure if that was the entire story, but he felt it read that Saruhiko would not be a danger to the child, physically or psychologically.

"I don't foresee any major problems there," he said. "If anything it might be good for both of them, I don't know how much time I'd have to spend with either, considering all the work that needs doing."

"You weren't thinking of trying to rope that guy in to help you with the work?"

He supposed 'that guy' was as respectful as Suoh was to the vast majority.

"Certainly," he replied. "But dividing the labour will lend itself far more to efficiency. I'll have to travel constantly for the foreseeable future throughout the whole province, I plan to install Sir Saruhiko in Tenrou Point to oversee from the centre, and Kai will be better off remaining in one place."

Normally Munakata enjoyed making Suoh's eyes pop – it was a little game between them to see who could do it to the other more often. Now however he felt again like he was being chided for his decision, and his guess as to why this time was that this was not how Suoh thought a married couple should live, because it was not how he had lived: side by side with Lord Totsuka, the image of which was still somehow disagreeable to him. But he wouldn't have brought such a thing up here and now.

Suoh eventually just shook his head. "I didn't even know you were planning on going back so soon," he said. "Actually, we kind of had the opposite impression."

'We' meaning himself and Kusanagi Izumo, no doubt. Munakata shrugged. "Given by his Excellency, I'm sure," he said. "I don't think he was altogether pleased to learn that that impression was a little off the mark."

"And that's why he was pissed off with you earlier. Right."

"He has no reason to be," Munakata protested, hoping there was no hint of the annoyance he felt within his voice. "He was the one who gave me the duchy in the first place, he can't expect me to run it to the best of my ability from the Capitol, however much he wants me at his side." He cleared his throat. "Besides, the Imperial seat is not hereditary but the duchy is, and it will be better for at least the first of my children to be born there. Which may be happening sooner rather than later."

Once again Suoh looked up at him with a frown, but Munakata was far too polite to start announcing to all and sundry the particulars of his husband's health, so he let a few seconds pass for Suoh to figure it out himself. This he did, with raised eyebrows, and a drag on the cigarette that was almost at its end.

"You mean he's… " he waved his hand, "already?"

Munakata nodded.

"Ch. That was lucky. Although…"

He trailed off, but Munakata felt he understood where that might have been going nonetheless; something that had been on his mind since Kokujoji had informed him of the match. It was widely held that the majority of Omega males would have at least two failed pregnancies before the first successful birth – something to take into consideration, as the expansion of his own family would likely have enormous consequence on the future of the nation.

On the other hand, another respected school of thought had questioned the methodology of the scholars who had proposed such, pointing out that their knowledge came from theirs or others' experience with their patients: patients who had paid for such services, could afford to pay, and therefore were at least as wealthy as the merchant class where child-bearers were generally married shortly after their first heats. These scholars believed it was just as likely the failure rate came from the bodies of those Omegas being underdeveloped, as it was attributable to their dynamic in itself.

There were arguments to be made for both sides, but Munakata found himself hoping for the latter case to be true, as Sir Saruhiko was several years past his first heat – kept from marriage pending the outcome of the war in a safeguard that had ended up paying off well for his family.

Then his breeding had a far greater chance of early success, which would be better for everyone.

If only there hadn't been other doubts hanging over that success as well. Sir Saruhiko's body-type may have been what raised them in the local gossips, but Munakata was far more concerned about the more recent analyses he'd seen questioning the wisdom of consanguineous marriages; something the Fushimi family had practiced par the course for generations.

Indeed, though Fushimi Niki had only been Fushimi Kisa's third cousin, such was the tangle of those bloodlines that he estimated they had been in reality at least as close as firsts. Obviously there was no danger of Sir Saruhiko perpetuating the consanguinity with _him_ , but there was still a chance the damage, as it were, had been done. 

"I have every confidence in the ability of my lord husband," he lied smoothly, and had the impression Suoh knew he was lying. "And even if it were not to come to pass, there are always alternatives." It wasn't as though Suoh's marriage had produced a child either, after all. Though that was another story. "More importantly I was very much impressed with his abilities in other respects."

"Oh yeah?" said Suoh, with a snort.

Munakata rolled his eyes. "Of course, a vulgar mind like yours would go there."

Slowly, Suoh dropped his cigarette and raised his hand up towards the balcony Munakata stood down. A moment later he found it strange he hadn't even thought about receiving the gesture when their hands were already touching. Suoh yanked him down so he was bent over the railing to press a kiss to the inside of his palm, and though they were out in the open, and though it was his wedding night… he found himself only smiling.

Those golden eyes staring up at him above the lips that caressed his skin far more gently than lips like those should have been able to, they made his heart thump dangerously hard, and he knew he should stop looking, but he couldn't help himself.

"I guess my days of being vulgar with you are at an end, Munakata," he said, ruefully.

Was that also something that had been bothering him? Munakata was surprised. The man would quite clearly never let go of his love for his murdered consort after all; Munakata had never even let himself entertain the notion. Never. Why should he have done such a thing when the facts were so clear? As for sex, Suoh could get from a number of different quarters. Perhaps he found his passions flared specially for Munakata because of their rivalry?

Maybe he could capitalise on that. It would hardly be a chore on his part, after all. He doubted his husband would be jealous when he was still so attached to Yata Misaki.

So. "Not necessarily," he said lightly.

"Oh?" Suoh raised his eyebrows, and seemed very pleased indeed, kissing him even further up his wrist. "A married man getting some on the side – and from another Alpha at that. That doesn't sound very respectable."

"And what, pray tell, would you know of such things?" Munakata asked. "In truth my lord husband has quite an ingenious idea for sorting out the problems of our duchy, but it _is_ an expensive one." Even if the costs they'd been able to discuss during that brief conversation were taken care of, Munakata had already thought of a dozen more. "I think you'll find under such circumstances I'm more than willing to renew our alliance."

There was a sudden increase in the pressure on his hand, and then everything came to an abrupt, and jarring stop, a break that felt like a pit had opened up in the bottom of his stomach.

Suoh dropped his arm and looked up at him, a look Munakata had never seen before and struggled to decipher.

"You want money," the other duke stated bluntly.

Munakata frowned. Want? He _needed_ the money. What had Suoh been expecting?

"Surely some of the others have already made similar overtures?" he said, thinking of the various reports he'd had concerning the nation's finances as broken down by province. "You hold the only province apart from the Imperial heartland that isn't bankrupt – "

"Yeah," Suoh interrupted. He actually sounded angry, what on earth was going on in his mind? "So I keep getting told, although none of them made quite the same offer you just did."

"Don't be ridiculous," Munakata told him, standing back up straight again. "I wasn't expecting our _carnal relations_ to be your only gain from this, the loan would have whatever proper terms we agreed upon. I was only saying that if you felt it would make the negotiations more pleasant – "

"I know what you were saying, Munakata, I have at least enough smarts to tie the laces on my boots." He shook his head. " _Fire of life_. You don't have to look at me like that either, your grace, I don't have any problem giving you a loan. Just don't talk about the other thing again, okay?"

Blinking, Munakata watched as Suoh turned away from him and headed straight for the door back into the chamber that wasn't even his.

"Suoh…"

"Congratulations on the union, your grace," Suoh threw back over his shoulder. "I wish you many children. Your new Omega sure had a lucky catch."

He opened the door, and shut it harshly enough behind him Munakata would almost have called it a 'slam'.

What the hell had just happened?

He went over that last minute or so in his head, but it sounded like their usual banter to him, right up until that accusatory 'you want money'.

So what if he did? He'd have expected Suoh to be just as glib about that as he was about anything. In times gone by they'd _joked_ about Munakata using their relationship for social advantage. Were they now not allowed to discuss him getting money he needed for the reconstruction of his protectorate in the same or similar terms? Why not?

As a cool wind brushed past him he tried to tell himself the important thing was that Suoh said he had no problem with the loan, and it would have been silly for him to be upset that the 'other thing' was off the table especially as he'd just been married, but he suddenly felt… alone, up on the balcony, and wrapping his arms around himself he returned to the warmth of the wedding chamber, still troubled.

Finding himself heading straight for the inner chamber, where his new husband and Omega lay sleeping on the large bed, turning with the discomfort expected from a heat, he stopped and watched the boy for a while.

Where a wedding night would usually consist of a single attempt at breeding, in the throes of heat Sir Saruhiko had pushed four out of him. He must have been tired from it; far more so than he felt, and said something untoward he wasn't getting because exhaustion was making him unfocused. He probably shouldn't have stepped outside and left his husband in this state, only it had been so hot…

"They burned," muttered Saruhiko, twisting again so that the covers were pulled off his naked body, bearing those horrid welts Munakata already felt he should have prevented somehow, as the Omega's protector. He took a few steps closer to the bed. "They all burned…"

The poor thing. He shrugged the dressing gown off his shoulders as that wave of protective feeling enveloped him and he climbed onto the bed. His husband latched on to him immediately even in his sleep, and just as quickly he seemed to calm down a little.

Yes. It had been wrong of him to engage with Suoh at all in these circumstances.

This was where he belonged now.

 

 

*~*~*

 


	7. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up past my bed time, so I'll answer comments tomorrow. Thank you, one and all.
> 
> In this chapter: a flashback to some more of Suoh and Munakata's history, a meeting with the Alphabet Squad, and Kisa shows up to demand more page-time.
> 
> Some of this chapter was cut and will form an interlude that will hopefully be up soon. Does this make this the halfway-point? Well, that's how I envisage it, but then I originally envisaged this as a oneshot, so what do I know, eh?

 

_*~*~*_

_The witnesses had all agreed Lord Totsuka's death had been most brave and dignified._

_Those witnesses had not included Mikoto, not because he'd not thought Tatara's death brave or dignified, but because he hadn't been a witness._

_Because he hadn't been there._

_The fire sweeping up from the stone of the previously unburned part of Himmelreich Palace had followed Mikoto close behind, as he'd climbed those tall and heavy steps to the ramparts Izumo had shown him in those dull, numb days following the incident. Shown him through the telescope, while Isana Yashiro's troops mocked them on the other side of the wall._

_Hard to think then that it had been two years to the day._

_"_ At first we didn't think the rebels had planned on killing him _," he'd remembered, Izumo's resigned and heavy voice murmuring from the recesses of his mind, still climbing. "_ But my information since then has thrown up several indications that Hisui was, in fact, far keener than he pretended to strike a blow against Homra for not joining the rebellion from the outset. The one thing they don't have are large enough oil reserves to fully press their advantage, and they had probably been counting on Homra for that. _"_

Good work, Hisui _, Mikoto had thought._ What a blow to strike _._

"Your grace… Lord Mikoto, we're receiving word from the council at Himmelreich: violent treachery on the part of Duke Hisui and Duke Iwafune, in league with the pretender to the Black Mountains!"

_How had he not known?_

_People… were supposed to know things like that. As it happened, if not in time to stop it. Not two days later by word of a low-ranked courier who wasn't even in service, commandeered to deliver the news to Ashrock because the Imperials couldn't be bothered to spare anyone important in the chaos that had ensued._

"Your grace… Lord Totsuka was listed as one of the casualties."

_Idiot shouldn't even have been there._

_It should have been Mikoto. Not even to die in his place or anything like that – if it had been him he sure as fuck wouldn't have hung around to make sure a priest of a set of gods that didn't even belong to his people got out okay. If it had been him he would have made it out alive and well._

_"_ Come on now, Mikoto, even if we're not going to join the war on either side we need to send a representative! To see how all our friends are if nothing else!"

_"_ Ch _." He'd snorted. "_ What friends?"

_More refugees had been arriving from Jungle with every boat that docked on their shores, Habari's customs agents had been stifling Southern merchants trying to reach the Capitol and Kagutsu had been sending his surveyors out into Homra territory again. Kokujoji never stopped meddling in any of their affairs._ Let them fight their war _, he'd thought._ Give them something else to do other than messing with my people.

"Oh, King – don't be like that. Maybe that Aeronaut will be there; I heard from Izumo that the Emperor made him a knight."

_Ah yes, he'd known Munakata even then. An incident within Imperial lands during another forced visit. And even though the idea had tempted him, he'd only said, "_ All the more reason not to go _," knowing it was unlikely when the air force was on constant alert at Four Sceptres._

_As he'd remembered all this he'd thought, step by step up the long climb, that Munakata might not have let it happen either, if he'd been there – and maybe, he thought, he would have, had he not been promoted to Four Sceptres for stopping Homra smugglers Mikoto hadn't been bothered about dealing with._

_In the distance once he'd cleared the stairs the falling star-like lights of an airship's missiles had still been falling in the smoke of the burning castle. At the first battle of Himmelreich, all the missiles had come from the rebel quarter once they'd launched their sneak-attack on the Imperial ships as they'd been docked._

_But before that…_

_Tatara had pouted. "_ But I want to go, King _!" he'd said, using the nickname as if there'd been a 'king' in Homra for the last five hundred years. "_ I heard from Sir Eric that they have a real working model of a continental film-camera at Himmelreich; the High-Priestess had foreign engineers shipped over to construct one for her brother – the first of its kind in the Empire!"

_"_ I don't think you should go _," Anna had said. Anna, not him._

_He'd said: "_ Do whatever you want _," and not even glanced twice when his husband kissed him goodbye for the last time._

_Now the place he'd lost him to had been burning, and good riddance, he'd thought. He'd rounded the corner, and there between the vast corridors of flames the likes of which his ancestors themselves had walked into to purify their dishonours, the rampart where Tatara had died on the sword of Isana Yashiro, the pieces of whom had then been turning to charcoal somewhere in the castle below, lay before him._

_Never one for religious bull of any flavour, even his own people's, Mikoto had before that moment not considered there to be any merit in the idea that burning yourself alive could erase dishonour. But by then he'd realised, it wasn't about erasing dishonour._

_It was about not_ feeling _dishonoured anymore. And fire, he'd thought, would have been as good a way as any once the inferno closed in and took him with it._

_Or would have done._

_He'd had to blink to make sure the vision of Munakata Reisi waiting for him there, and the huge ship hovering far too low for comfort, had not just been a smoke-induced mirage. As soon as he'd spoken out to him though, then he'd known._

_"Your grace," the other man had greeted, tight smile beneath eyes frozen with what was probably contempt. "I thought I might find you here."_

_"Munakata," he'd returned, with a tired smile of his own. "Should have known you'd cause me trouble right up to my dying day."_

_Even a fake smile had been too much for the Captain then._

_"You're not dead yet," he'd retorted. "And, mores the pity, you won't be when the day is out if I have anything to say about it._

_Mikoto had chuckled. "Don't push yourself, Captain. Or your ship." A second glance at the hovering monstrosity and he'd seen how close the tower next to it was to collapsing onto it and taking them all with it. "It wouldn't be like you to risk your whole crew for the sake of one guy you hate."_

_"And my hatred grows by the minute," Munakata had agreed, as the rope ladder swinging down behind from the ship behind him had flown out with the force of the wind, brushing the flames below. Mikoto had remembered just a tint of worry in his heart at that, even though rope was hard to burn. "But it doesn't change the fact that, loathsome as you are, you matter more than me, my crew, or this ship."_

_Seeming as he had been to continue with the lecture he'd had planned out, the Captain had suddenly stopped and tilted his head._

_"Isana Yashiro is dead, isn't he?"_

_Strange how hard it had been to smile at that. Munakata hadn't looked pleased either, only responding to his forced-yes smile with,_

_"You coward."_

_Yeah, he'd seemed to understand everything about Mikoto so well back then; the two of them so different and so alike. Was that why he cared so much? Mikoto had wondered. Sure, their relationship had already become sexual by that point but that had been mostly blowing off steam._

_Mostly._

_Well. Maybe at least half, by that point._

_At any rate, all he could do was drop a somehow easier smile and say, "Yeah. Guess I am."_

_Mikoto had never been one to force himself to do what he didn't want. That was why he hadn't gone to Himmelreich. That was why he hadn't married the Duchess of Redsands, as his mother had wanted._

_That was why he just wasn't going to live any more. Isana was dead, and nothing had changed. So why should he have?_

_For Anna, obviously, was the immediate answer. Anna, who he couldn't look at without thinking of how utterly he'd failed her._

_She'd lost Tatara, whom Mikoto hadn't even lifted a finger to save. Then her mother, Honami, who had been one of Mikoto's tutors – and tutor in his Alpha 'performance' duties, as was traditional, and as was how Anna had come to be – had been sent out into the battle that killed her by Mikoto himself._

_Another honourable, glorious death, this time against a Jungle force lead by Count Yukari. There'd been no dishonourable conduct on his or any of his men's part in regards to that, if nothing else, so by Homra tradition no reason for blood feud, but Honami was dead all the same._

_Then Anna's aunt and uncle on that side, who had raised her in her infancy until she'd been brought to the palace at age seven, had been killed in a stupid incident by some of the Imperial troops who'd thought the grey dust from battle on their battalion's red banner had made it look purple in the twilight, decided they were Fushimi troops and opened fire._

_Mikoto hadn't even been able to get Kokujoji to hand the commander of that operation over to him for court martial, that was how far he'd failed._

_So what was he supposed to have done? Lived, and provided Anna with such a_ stunning _example of leadership for when her time came?_

_She'd have been better off with Izumo, he'd told himself._

_And would have told Munakata too, had he brought up the same tired old points he'd done so often in the past. But Munakata had apparently been at the end of his own rope in more than the literal sense and marched forward._

_"Well done, your grace, they say admitting you have a problem is the first step to solving it," he'd said, with none of the usual amusement in his eyes from their banter, "And although I admit being this close to you makes me sick, I'm not above resolving this by force."_

_He wouldn't have put it past him. Only problem was, when it came to that they were pretty much an even match. Mikoto had only chuckled to himself some more while Munakata stormed forward – but not right up to where he was._

_"So here's your choice, your grace," he'd said icily. "If you want to die on the same spot as your consort you'll have to go through me. If not, you can run back inside the palace like the coward you are."_

_Mikoto had glared, and felt the irritation begin to colour the dull pain pulling him towards the centre of that rampart._

_"You really think I care if I have to take you with me, Munakata?"_

_"To your husband's grave?" his eyebrows had gone up, and a little flicker of their usual rapport had lighted in the eyes beneath. "That might crowd your marriage just a little, don't you think?"_

_"Ch."_

_He'd tried to push past without thinking then. Maybe he'd known exactly what was going to happen if he did and he'd wanted the way out of his way out, like there'd been a sprig of hope left in him that he just hadn't been able to feel._

_Or maybe he'd just been being his usual self. Either way, Munakata's hand had shot out and latched on to his arm in the gaps between the plate like a viper, pulling him close with enough pressure to cause pain he hadn't thought himself capable of feeling anymore._

_But then, Munakata had always had a knack to showing people what they were capable of. Like those lupins with their roses._

_"Let go," he'd tried to order, quietly, with as much Alpha authority as he could muster in his depressed state._

_"No."_

_Then there'd been a creak and the sound of falling rubble from the tower; even though it hadn't given way completely then the destabilisation had grown worse, and he'd seen as clear as day that any minute it had been about to fall. One crumbling brick even bounced off the propeller on that side of the ship and the whole craft had jerked._

_He didn't know how to explain what had happened next. How he hadn't been able to think of what to say to Munakata to get him to leave without him, if the safety of himself and his crew wasn't going to do it. How Munakata obviously hadn't been able to think of what to say to get him to come with if the fates of Anna and his people were falling on equally deaf ears._

_They'd stared each other down for  what had felt like hours, two iron wills scraping each other raw through piercing gazes as the flames had roared and the smoke had made Mikoto begin to feel light-headed._

_Maybe that had been it in the end. Something as basic and unglamorous as the smoke making him unable to…_

_To…_

_Well. Sometimes he wondered what he'd really been trying to do then. At any rate the next thing he'd known his lips had been pressed up against the other man's and his arms as much to hold himself up as anything had locked around his shoulders._

_It had felt so calming to be that way, holding someone, and being held – and not just anyone; as if by merely being there they could have replaced or been an adequate substitute for Tatara, but because it was Munakata and someone who he felt came so close to truly understanding, and yet was dissimilar enough that he couldn't see his own self-hatred reflected back at him._

_Someone who he had thought about then, in themselves, all the quirks and annoyances that were nothing like Tatara had been, that he should have been able to decide on any given day whether he hated or loved, but couldn't, and how stunning and challenging the person flush against him was…_

_He'd barely noticed the ladder being pulled back up into the ship, him holding onto the Captain holding onto it._

_Saved._

_It still annoyed him, but even an hour later he'd been yet more relieved than irritated, and feeling both in spades. Izumo had given him a good punch for it, and Munakata had appeared in his room that night, sat on a chair on the other side of the room, t'o make sure nothing else happened', he'd said._

_Mikoto had felt too tired to protest, just let the other Alpha watch him sleep. Wouldn't he have known, all things being equal, that Munakata would be too smart to think that one narrow escape from the fire would be the end of it. He'd seen him frowning, thinking, formulating his plan to keep his lover alive for as long as it took and longer, and that had been, perhaps, when Mikoto had got the idea that Munakata may have thought more of him than just 'adequate' too._

_The understanding between them cut both ways, in the end. Definitely not all-comprehensive, not by any stretch, but he'd felt like he'd known it then, that where his bond with Tatara had been so mercilessly cut, he could nevertheless find another rope to cling to in the storm. Not a replacement, or a new beginning, but… another hope. Once Munakata had warmed up to him again after pulling that stunt as they'd taken back Himmelreich, he'd thought._

_That, of course, had never happened._

_Five days after the second battle of Himmelreich an Imperial ship had landed just outside their encampment on the northern border at Riverfalls, bringing with it Kokujoji's Minister of Technology, and the bad air that followed that man everywhere he went._

_Dire news, he'd brought._

_The enemy had a new weapon; an airship faster and hardier than any known to man, designed by Hisui's pet prodigy Gojou Sukuna himself._

_The 'firestorms' designed by the same had also been upgraded, and in conjunction with enough of the vessels could be used to burn a city to the ground in fifteen minutes flat._

_Duke Habari the younger had been killed in an attack by these weapons, meaning the future of the Midlands was in question._

_Fears were that the fortress at Seven Towers would be next in the sightlines of the rebels, and the Emperor wished to summon each loyal duke to his side to prepare their defence in the wake of this new threat._

_Munakata too – as he'd been promoted then to acting-admiral and warden of the Moonfalls province in the wake of the extinguishing of the Habari line._

_And the church troops who had also been there were to convene at Four Sceptres, for the coordination of the emergency relief efforts following such a devastating assault._

_… looking back, Munakata had probably realised it as soon as then, but this was Minister Fuckhead they were talking about, the man so jealous and generally slimy that he'd later suggest outright at court that Munakata would be a danger to the Fushimi boy if left in his vicinity – a boy who may have come from an enemy family, but was, nonetheless,_ noble _._

_If killing Isana had taught Mikoto anything it had been that revenge actually was as worthless as all those navel-gazing philosophers had always said. But fuck if he still didn't want to beat that asshole Minister's head against the ground every time he saw the little shit._

_"I seem to have misunderstood," Munakata had said, after far too long a pause. "Was Duke Habari not killed at the regnal seat at Four Sceptres?"_

_"Oh no, the attack wasn't at Four Sceptres," the asshole had said. "It was at Tenrou Point."_

_Mikoto had felt like, in the distance, he could hear those crumbling towers and the roar of the flames all over again, like a voice telling him there was nothing he could do in this world._

_The Minister had hung his head as if in sorrow. But Mikoto had known full well it had been to hide an un-suppressible grin. He'd heard it in the man's words._

_"The population was utterly destroyed," he'd said. "A few managed to make it across the river, but there's no doubt with the focus of the fire all within the palace and surrounding grounds were lost. A terrible way to die."_

_Oh, yes._

_Northerners had always found it distasteful how the regional laws of Homra allowed hardly any executions, for any crime, but when they did the only form of execution was burning._

_There were reasons for it. Idea was you wouldn't sentence a man to death lightly if the death was as terrible as that._

_Mikoto had thought about burning that man there and then, as the silent stares from everyone around them towards Munakata, everyone but his, who'd looked back into the past instead and remembered sitting in his own seat with all those eyes swivelling towards him._

"Your grace… Lord Totsuka was listed as one of the casualties…"

_Munakata had been silent for what had felt like an age, expression not changing in the slightest._

_And then he'd blinked._

_And blinked again._

_And then._

_"I understand. Akiyama-kun, please inform the crew we will be departing immediately to carry the relief troops south; the majority of the force will remain behind to secure the re-conquest here. I trust you will do the same, your grace?"_

_Yeah, he and Munakata were similar and dissimilar at the same time, in the most infuriating of ways for each other. They both couldn't stand to suck up their pride._

_So as Mikoto had decided he wasn't going to live if he had to feel the way he had…_

_… so Munakata had decided then and there, however long it had taken Mikoto to realise that's what had happened in those two blinks, that he wasn't going to feel if he had to live the way he had._

_Because being a coward wasn't so bad when there was such good company, wasn't that right?_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Inside his head, he sighed._

_How was he supposed to fix that when he'd failed so badly in everything else?_

 

*~*~*

 

The clock in the corner of the meeting room chimed almost exactly in concert with the city bells; nonetheless Saruhiko noticed a slight frown on Munakata's face at even that tiny misalignment. Then the man shook his head and returned to the task at hand.

"I think we can agree then that the route for the railroad is best served to cross the Great River at Marble Bridge on its way into the Grey Lands, and at Aquile when it goes into Jungle. Count Akiyama; Count Kamo – you are prepared to undertake this endeavour?"

Count Akiyama nodded at once, but Kamo hesitated, seeming to want to raise some point before glancing away and nodding his own assent.

Saruhiko watched closely.

Before him, four of them going down each side of the long, mahogany table in the small but stately drawing room his husband had acquired for the occasion, were the eight Counts who served as regional authorities for the eight counties of the duchy, and he'd known he'd do well to learn as much as he could about all of them given this rare opportunity of having them all in one place.

For instance, had Kamo thought better of whatever objection he'd had because he was weak-willed? Because he feared Munakata's reaction to being questioned? Because he wanted to get the meeting over and done with as soon as possible?

Sitting in a cushioned armchair behind his husband, Saruhiko knew he should not project his own feelings on the matter to these men. Not to mention, he'd found himself only half-bored by this discussion, and even then only after the first two hours had gone by.

But then, he was still a little tired from the two days of heat that had ended the night before, and certain parts were still sore.

"I'd add though," said Count Doumyoji, looking at the huge map laid over the table. "If Aquile is the way I remember it from the battle we fought near there last summer, the bridge that was there wasn't strong enough for a machine the likes of which we're talking here. Is there sufficient material in the area for…"

Kamo cleared his throat. "I doubt it."

"Well, Seven Towers is not that far off," Doumyoji said brightly. "I'm sure we can spare from the rubble that came from our part of the wall. There's certainly a lot of it."

"Don't you need that to rebuild the wall?" Saruhiko found himself muttering.

For the most part he'd kept quiet during this meeting, but sometimes he'd found remarks like that had just slipped out. Back at Ironpeak, he'd have been thrown out and confined to his rooms after the first such utterance, had he ever been allowed into a meeting at all. Here Munakata had greeted each one with a smile, and Saruhiko found himself becoming bolder.

Even the Counts didn't seem to mind too much, as Doumyoji replied, "This is far more important, your grace!" with a sincerity Saruhiko could hardly believe.

Munakata gave him that smile.

"Make the arrangements, Doumyoji-kun. Excuse me, my lord – Lord Doumyoji."

"Honestly, Captain, I prefer the '-kun'," said Doumyoji with a sigh.

Interesting. His was one of the oldest noble Houses in the Midlands, yet he dismissed his rightful title in favour of the war-time convention between a superior and their subordinate?

"As you wish, Doumyoji-kun," said Munakata.

It was then that Kamo cleared his throat and finally plucked up the courage for what he'd been wanting to say before.

"Forgive me, your grace, I know you've almost certainly taken this into account already, and it's not that I have any issue with his grace's plan for this new… endeavour, as you call it, I can honestly see no reason why it wouldn't solve a great many of our problems, only – "

"Spit it out, Kamo," groaned Count Fuse, looking a touch more bored than most of them.

Kamo exhaled. "What I mean to say is I'm wondering if it's really wise for us not to have included any Imperial presence at this meeting. Especially in light of your decision to borrow from Homra, instead of the Emperor."

Rather than give Saruhiko a second or two to think through that statement, Count Hidaka snorted and dropped his forearm against the table.

"What do we need the rabbits in here for, Kamo?" he asked. "It's our province, and none of their business how we deal with these things."

"Besides," added Count Enomoto. "We're already in debt to the Emperor even from before the war started thanks to bad investments – no offence to the memory of his late grace, everyone makes mistakes," he added the last part hastily.

Count Goutou leaned back in his seat a little. "Can't the Captain just forgive any debt Moonfalls gets into with the Empire when he becomes Emperor?" he asked.

"If you want him to show blatant favouritism to his home province, sure," said Count Benzai. "Otherwise the rates from Lord Suoh are far more favourable."

Next to him, Count Akiyama leant forward to catch Munakata's eye, stilling the others who Saruhiko had noticed seemed to look to him above each other despite his county being the least populous in the province.

"Even so, your grace?" he asked.

Munakata himself leant back and brought his hands together, and this time he didn't turn to show Saruhiko a smile so he couldn't see his face. There was a pause, which the eight Counts waited through patiently, and then at last he spoke.

"Kamo-kun is right in that these are not matters to be taken lightly," he said, somewhat carefully, and Saruhiko got the impression from that and from the slight intakes of breath in some of the others that dangerous ground was, indeed, being tread. "But I would say that while Imperial authority is required for the construction of new airbases and ships to man them, no such caveat exists for what we are discussing here."

That did not seem to alleviate the Counts' fears. Indeed, the expression on Enomoto in particular was something along the lines of 'here we go again'…

"And I doubt His Excellency would have any misgivings about the railroad's construction… except that he would want it to run from Tenrou Point to the Capitol, and not in the other direction."

Akiyama frowned. "Would that not defeat the purpose of…" he gestured towards the damage reports in front of him.

"Not if the Emperor could have the materials shipped from overseas. He has the capital to do it with as much time. However his purpose in doing so would be to reinforce the might and importance of the Empire in the face of the recent war, while I believe, and I believe you all do too – that instead reinforcing our reconciliation with the west should be given more priority."

He paused.

"As for the loan from Homra, the terms _will_ be more favourable. The only problem with that is that Homra is nowhere near as wealthy as the Capitol, and we are not the only ones with this idea. I've had… a generally favourable response from Lord Suoh, but we must keep in mind that Redfields is in much the same position we are, and Lord Kusanagi was born and raised in Homra, they consider him one of their own."

While the Counts either grimaced or exchanged worried glances, Munakata turned around to smile at Saruhiko again.

"What do you think, my lord?" he asked him. "Will there be room in our plans to create a third line running down from Aquile to Seven Towers?"

Saruhiko was as surprised that he was the one who had been asked as he was that the idea had been brought up. Seven Towers had been successful enough an Imperial symbol of cooperation between protectorates, built on the great river where the borders of Moonfalls and Redfields met and joined with that of Jungle, that upon the outbreak of war the Jungle part of the administration of the Towers had defied the will of Hisui and remained loyal to the Emperor.

They'd paid a heavy price for it, of course. But Munakata was right, and looking back it seemed stupid for him to not have thought of extending the rail to Seven Towers in the first place. Why hadn't he thought of that!?

Self-recrimination made him struggle a little to get a reply out.

"I… suppose it's a good idea," he said. "Kusanagi Izumo may then decide to use his own initiative to build a rail between Seven Towers and Redfields' seat at Sunhigh, and if their coal reserves weren't exhausted by the war, they could certainly extract from them for the engines that pull the train, as they're much closer than the Black Mountains."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that, your grace," said Doumyoji. "His Excellency had almost all the coal we used from overseas before we took back the Black Mountains; plus, they found a giant deposit under the remains of the town at Mount Claret when Fushimi Niki's ship crashed there!"

There was an almost loud silence. It took a good few seconds for Saruhiko to spot the realisation suddenly flash into the Count's eyes, as his smile steadily turn to horror.

"I – " he choked out. "I – uh…"

Next to him, Count Kamo dropped his forehead against his palm. Doumyoji continued to stutter.

"I… f-forgive me, your grace – "

"Moving on," said Saruhiko, rolling his eyes. "I'd suggest you all think carefully about how exactly you want the Emperor to find out what's being planned, because it won't stay secret long."

"Indeed," said Munakata. "But I already have an idea in mind. Is there anything else that's on yours?"

Saruhiko sighed. "Only that I'm hungry."

Munakata chuckled. "Of course you are. I've been a terrible husband and leader and starved my spouse and subordinates for far too long." He stood up, and his Counts quickly followed suit while he held his hand out to Saruhiko. "Shall we?"

Before he took the hand, as he knew was expected, Saruhiko hesitated. Stupid as it was, as he'd just spent two days having sex with the man, he still felt awkward about touching him. But he did so and as expected the duke pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before gently pulling him up, and at last relieving the pressure on his sore spots which Saruhiko took great effort not to show on his face.

Each one of the Counts bowed and in close to unison said, "Your graces," as a goodbye.

"My lords," said Munakata, and, knowing there was no point in not saying it, Saruhiko echoed boredly,

"My lords."

They exited the room and he dropped Munakata's hand to let his arms fall naturally. Munakata casually allowed this, though etiquette would have expected Saruhiko to hang onto him when they were together in public.

And, although, part of Saruhiko wanted to hang onto him. A small part, but he couldn't deny the urge was there, much as he felt (and hoped) it was nothing more than another residual effect from the heat which would leave soon enough.

That damned heat. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Partly with embarrassment at how his mind had suddenly decided during it that the only thing more awesome than being fucked by an Alpha's cock was the fact that that meant he was going to have babies soon enough. He knew that, as he'd been in heat, there was every chance he _was_ pregnant even as he walked down the opulent corridor of the Imperial palace, but he couldn't forget among the other wonderful advice his mother had given him…

_"Don't get attached to the first lump that swells your stomach up. You'll probably lose the first couple or so."_

Why not just advise him to do as she'd done, and not get attached to the 'lump' even after it was born? If bearing it didn't kill him, which was another possibility that he had to admit worried him.

And then he had to admit that more than embarrassment, he thought about his heat in regards to how it had excited him. Instead of pain from the Venus cluster, he'd been overwhelmed with pleasure in bout after bout of aggressive rutting, and the aggression had been as much on his part as Munakata's, if not more, frankly. Fuck, he'd lost count of how many times he'd come, or how many times he'd felt the hot seed of the other fill him.

Something inside him twitched with pleasure, even in response to only the memories.

"A fair warning, my lord, if we are to proceed to the main dining hall for lunch," Munakata said as they rounded the corner, cutting through Saruhiko's embarrassing thoughts. "There are no few inhabitants of the palace who will be there in the hopes of seeing you. Should you prefer to return to our chambers – "

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "No, I'm sick of that place," he said. "We'll show them all you didn't _fuck_ me to death and then find somewhere where I don't have to eat around idiots until the time comes to leave. Speaking of."

Sighing and shaking his head slightly at the 'fuck me to death' part of that sentence, Munakata replied, "Three days, my lord. And then one or two days by airship to Tenrou Point, depending on the wind. Have you ever been in one?"

The memory of the first test flight for the engine which for all he knew had later carried the very firestorm that had burned his own in-laws to death came flying full force into Saruhiko's mind, and he flinched from the power it still held over him.

"It's how I got here," he muttered.

"Of course. Though I think you'll find my personal carrier is quite different."

That made him look up again, because aeronautic engineering still interested him. He almost asked about the ship's construction before remembering the lingering dread of that monster he himself had created, and thought better of it.

His husband probably had too much already by way of clues to how experienced Saruhiko really was in that field.

They did not proceed to the main dining hall the wedding feast had been held in, but to a smaller, more private lunch room just as finely furnished. Accordingly there were fewer people there, and yet still far too many for Saruhiko to be comfortable with, especially as each and every one of them turned to stare at him as soon as he came in.

Indeed, he barely had the time to take stock of the more important ones among them; the philandering Prime Minister, the High Priest, Duke Kusanagi and more importantly than those three put together his mother, with a still haggard-looking Aya at her side – before the swarm descended, and without thinking he grabbed on to Munakata's arm.

"Your grace!" cried the Minister, like a con artist who'd just spotted a mark. "My dear fellow. And Lord Fushimi, how is our Lady Blaulieb feeling?"

_How is 'Lady Blaulieb' feeling?_

After being fucked for two nights straight? And to come right out and call him… surely even that idiot could see how embarrassing that was; everyone had known he'd been in heat and several cringed at the bluntness. Saruhiko was relieved when Munakata answered for him.

"My husband is fine, Lord Minister," he said. "How is our Lady Natori?"

Whoever that Lady was, the mere mention of her name had the Prime Minister go white and back off.

Saruhiko was beginning to like his husband.

But a single line wasn't going to be enough to dismiss those present who _weren't_ barely more than the Emperor's glorified spokesperson. Another few Lords, Ladies and politicians with enough tact not to make reference to why he'd been gone the past few days approached, and Saruhiko all but tuned out their banal small talk, his eyes on the other three he'd made note of; Kusanagi, Weismann, Kisa, who had all hung back around the edges, each wily enough to approach him later if they wanted to at all.

Kisa would, eventually, and he did not look forward to it. Kusanagi and Munakata would want to talk with each other later either way, though Saruhiko had a kind of instinct that _their_ relationship was not one conducive to frank discussion. But Weismann was probably just hoping to disappear to his seat at Himmelreich as soon as possible, if anything he was trying to shy away from the crowd.

"Excuse me, my lord," Munakata said to him, softly. "I believe Sir Misaki of Ashrock is trying to get your attention. I'm sure his company is preferable to that of most of the gathering. Ah, Lord Tetsuda, I didn't know you were in the city…"

Misaki.

With that name said Saruhiko's eyes scoured the room until he found him in the doorway trying not to be seen looking back, amazed he hadn't fixed on him at once by some second sight. That one little hook in his skin that was still pulling even after the last few days – and how couldn't it have? He'd spent four years telling himself it would be better to believe Misaki had died, and now the only contact they had had been that one, excruciating conversation.

Misaki. Misaki. _Misaki_. Why did it have to be this way? That even if there were no politics, no marriage, no issue with their dynamic – and whatever people said it wasn't that Betas and Omegas couldn't be paired, only that the latter seemed to prefer Alphas so much during heat that it was considered unusual for them to wed – even if there had been none of that though, they still couldn't have stayed friends.

Misaki was too good, and pure, even after all this time. Misaki should have had a nice, good, pure Beta girl to marry, and give him the children he'd wanted since he'd been a child.

Even so, Saruhiko felt as much like stabbing that hypothetical girl to death as he would have any actual girl Misaki had chosen to court. And Suoh Mikoto along with her.

That was why they couldn't be in the vicinity of each other. Saruhiko was the son of his parents, after all, he'd probably do something terrible sooner or later and it would have torn his insides for Misaki to have been the victim of that.

" – does look sad. Let's see if we can cheer him up, Kai!"

The giggling of children broke Saruhiko from his previous train of thought, as there was a sudden rush past him. Dressed in traditional red, Kushina Anna – who despite being declared his heir still bore the place of her birth as her name rather than her father's; another southern tradition – dashed past him with the much younger Munakata Kai trailing behind her, his good hand clutching her long sleeve.

As they did, Saruhiko caught another glimpse of Kai's face, and felt his breath catch and his head feel light for just a second.

_Do something terrible sooner or later? What do you call_ that _, genius?_

They ran straight towards Misaki, who also started when he saw them, but in his case more at Anna than at Kai; realising his little lady was there and he should bow to her. Saruhiko couldn't hear exactly what was said between them, but in watching them interact he didn't need to. Misaki didn't so much as blink at Kai's face – he put his hands on his hips like he was trying to be stern in whatever he said to them and the two children giggled even more at the attempt.

" – think Munakata is trying to put his nephew on the throne of Homra?" a voice behind him suddenly floated into Saruhiko's ear. He didn't recognise it, and didn't turn around while he didn't want whoever it was to know he was listening.

"Surely not even Suoh would stoop so low?" replied an older woman with a dry snort. "Besides, it's not customary for the nobility of the south to announce a betrothal so early."

The man who had spoken first tutted, and if the conversation continued, they must have moved somewhere Saruhiko didn't hear them. He refocused on the children, and Misaki, all talking animatedly as he put a few cuts of meat on a plate for himself.

Kushina Anna and Munakata Kai seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with each other, but those nobles' idle musings had his thoughts turn another way. Might not Suoh want to arrange Misaki's betrothal? It was his right as liege-lord, even if by all accounts he was a 'hands-off' kind of lord.

Saruhiko clutched his knife a little tighter. The sooner he was away from all this the better, even if it would be among those who hated him. That would be better, even - give him a sense of belonging since it was deserved.

And then, a small, plain silver box was placed by his side on the buffet table.

"Have a care to where others see you looking," said Kisa, gravely. "It is already known that you and that… person were acquainted before the war."

Now in a more neutral, mourning black, Saruhiko saw Aya's downcast face behind Kisa before he saw hers, glaring at him with even more irritation than usual. Then he glanced down at the box, as the pale hand protruding from the similarly black sleeve trimmed with violet lace returned to wine-glass Aya had been holding for her.

"You kept your word well enough," said Kisa, begrudgingly. "So I have kept mine. Though if you do decide to see sense you'll toss that thing into the fire yourself." She paused, peering at his face. "Did you require the gift I left you, in the end?"

He snorted. "No."

"Hmm. Taking advantage of your condition must have satisfied the man. Well, it will only be a matter of time."

"I don't think so," Saruhiko told her, searching the room for Munakata now and finding he had managed to snag Lord Kusanagi. He wouldn't have thought there'd be any discussion of their plan here. But the overture had begun.

Kisa raised her eyebrows. "Don't you, my dear?" She hissed a little, like even said sardonically an endearment for him was a chore. "Well, we shall have to pray you learn the dangers of first impressions without too much pain on your part. And from what I hear, he certainly made an impression."

Her voice lowered, and somehow Saruhiko felt his stomach twist in shame.

"For future reference, it is not considered dignified for an Omega to make noise. If you knew you were going into heat you should have said so, so that you might have been taken somewhere soundproofed. Not all the gawking idiots were stupid enough to follow the body-double out to the secondary location."

Fuck.

Without thinking about it he looked back at Misaki, as if he could gage whether or not he might have heard – in person of from others – that Saruhiko had 'made noise' during the last few days. The plate began to shake in his hands as he imagined him; at first disbelieving but then grudgingly accepting: Saruhiko hadn't been worth waiting for after all.

But then, Misaki hadn't known that was what he'd been asking Saruhiko to do anyway, with that pendant.

"Eyes front, you foolish child," Kisa whispered.

Though he felt his irritation begin to rise, he complied, and instead turned his attention to the box, catching a split-second glimpse of Aya's reddening face as he did so.

He opened the box a sliver, and made sure Misaki couldn't see what was inside when he peered at the familiar wooden shell, and the blue glint that bounced off it before he closed the case again.

After days of telling himself it didn't matter, he couldn't believe how relieved he was to have it back.

"There was a body-double then?" he asked, in order to draw the conversation away from other things.

"For your safety as well as your privacy," said Kisa. "Though no anti-Imperial plot ended up coming to fruition, if any was planned. The only resistance still continuing is in the Grey Lands, so I wouldn't have thought there'd be any, given how far away they are. They're all starving to death anyway, and won't be a problem for much longer."

Cruelly dismissive, for those who had been fighting on the same side as her – but since Saruhiko hadn't expected any less he didn't say anything about it.

"After that," Kisa continued, "power over the Grey Lands is up in the air. Kokujoji wants Lord Yatogami to be given chief administration; his having two provinces isn't as much of a threat when they're the two weakest. Interference from any of the Midlands duchies is highly probable though, so if you can – which I sincerely doubt – you must try to have your husband see the wisdom in passing the lands to Lady Hirasaka."

Saruhiko wasn't entirely sure what ideas Munakata had for the governing of the Grey Lands, but either one of those Kisa had mentioned would have caused consternation for the natives. He was a little worried she was instantly behind Hirasaka Douhan though; he'd called her 'sensible' to Munakata, but then what could be more sensible that cosying up to the still-considerable Fushimi wealth?

That said, what was in it for Kisa?

"Thinking of putting your seal on a northern quarry or two, Mother?" he asked boredly, relishing his chance to be impertinent again now he had his property back.

And hey, now that he was out of that woman's tangled clutches altogether, as he only then thought of it.

But as if she'd read his mind, her head twitched, her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer.

"I see," she said. "You've had a few days of fun and now you think you're all set. Still a child, even after that. Well, I suppose any child can breed."

Abruptly, she pulled away, passed him, and over her shoulder cautioned,

" _Mind yourself_."

Now.

Was that a general criticism, or did Kisa mean something specific by that. Before the wedding he'd guessed she might be planning to assassinate Munakata as soon as Saruhiko was delivered of a child, but right now the situation remained far too unstable, and probably would for years to come.

What was she up to…

"Come along, Aya."

The sound of her name reminding him that she was there, Saruhiko found himself denied the chance to speak with her even as she too passed, reaching across her empty sleeve to touch his arm, with only a second to begin to ask –

"Saruhiko, are you all – "

"Aya."

Her hand retreated. There was a look in her eyes like she wanted to talk to him so badly, but…

He didn't know what to say. She and Kisa returned to the crowd and when he looked back towards Misaki the knight was no longer pretending not to look at him, but had his entire attention fixed on Suoh Mikoto, who had somehow appeared in that area, looking like he'd been asleep for the last twenty years.

Saruhiko's sudden solitude gained attention quickly, and in desperation he turned back to Munakata.

Munakata, who funnily enough was turning out to be the best thing about the whole arranged marriage. Saruhiko had hardly always thought all humans to be either Niki or Kisa, and was not finding it a struggle to re-evaluate.

It had been wise to prepare for the worst, after all.

The man seemed, above all else, goal-oriented, and with no apparent sadistic tendencies so far that meant as long as Saruhiko could prove an asset to his goals, which in the short term at least Saruhiko was confident he could – his airships may have caused catastrophic damage, but they had worked exactly as he'd designed them – but if he could do that then Munakata would see to him in turn.

Ironically simple. So different, and yet in that different way the same as someone else he'd once known.

He pocketed the silver box and avoided the various courtiers on his way across the room.

Later on, he'd find a way to see Misaki without so many watchful eyes.

And return to him what could never truly have been Saruhiko's in the first place.

 

 

*~*~*

 


	8. Interlude: The Frogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I'm really tired. But everyone gets a POV today.
> 
> Also, there are frogs.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

"This is proven to work?" asked Saruhiko, somewhat dubiously.

Munakata glanced over from where he'd been inspecting the titles of the books on the well-stocked shelf of the court's High Physician and observed his husband emerge from behind the screen, looking annoyed and embarrassed. He smiled for him.

"How remiss of me not to have obtained a copy of the article for you, my lord," he said. "The doctor should have one for you if you so wish, but if it pleases you for now you have my assurance that Dr. Mueller proved to quite rigorous degree the method is sound for determining whether or not a bearer is pregnant."

Saruhiko's eyes narrowed, watching the doctor – seemingly oblivious to all else, as was his way – take his sample over to the indoor pond.

"Back in Ironpeak there was talk of killing rabbits…" he muttered, a little uncomfortably.

The doctor snorted, but said nothing, so Munakata answered,

"That was indeed one of the initial methods, but as a mammal the rabbit's ova is produced internally and thus it was necessary to kill it to discover whether or not the sample had induced the reaction. The frogs produce their eggs externally, so all we need do is observe them."

As he spoke, the old man had to quite clearly fight past a crick in his back to bend over the pond with a scooping net and seek out his quarry.

"And if the frog lays eggs within twenty-four hours after it's been injected with the sample… ?"

"Then my lord is with child."

A sudden splash and the doctor had one of the slick mottled-green creatures in his net; surprisingly swift for such an old man. He flung it in and open jar and snapped the lid shut with a hiss. Saruhiko flinched back from the droplets that splashed onto him as the scoop swung through the air.

Frog in hand, the doctor began to prepare the needle for the routine, but Munakata found his eyes drawn back to the creature, as it probed the edges of its glass jar, searching for a way out.

_"Catching frogs is to be desired then, Ni-san?"_

_"That's what we're doing. Just… don't get a giant army of them like you did with the beetles, okay?"_

Blinking, Munakata dismissed the random memory as irrelevant and focussed once more on his spouse, who was eyeing the needle with discomfort.

"There's no need for us to wait here to see if it happens, the Lord Physician will send us news of the test results as soon as they are available, before we leave in the morning." Recalling that the Lord in question was wont to have things like that slip his mind when absorbed in research, he added pointedly, "at least, he will remember to do so if he wishes to receive a further grant in these economically troubled times."

The doctor paused for a moment, eyes narrowing, then made an annoyed utterance and waved his hand in what Munakata considered to be acknowledgement enough.

"If it pleases you, my lord," he turned to Saruhiko, offering his arm.

The Omega took the opportunity to leave the room before the poor frog was injected, but did not take Munakata's arm, and not for the first time. And it had already been remarked upon by the courtiers. Still, Munakata didn't mind so much – mere disregarding of traditional courtesies wasn't going to have much effect outside those criticisms. If Saruhiko felt more comfortable like that, he wouldn't argue.

He found he felt exactly the same either way, so it certainly didn't matter to him.

Well. Perhaps that was not entirely true.

He did prefer for his mate to be in physical contact; likely an instinctual reaction as well as a sign that the union would be amiable, and conducive to the restoration of the nation. Speaking of…

"I have some business to conclude with Lord Suoh at some point during the day, and I hoped you would not be adverse to accompanying me, my lord, as it will be beneficial for you to understand the terms of our agreement."

The financial side of it, at least, assuming Suoh was still pissed off about that other matter, which Munakata assumed he was. Strange how even after recovering himself from the heat-induced state of mind he'd had on his wedding night, he still wasn't exactly sure about why Suoh had been that angry.

He understood a part of it – clearly he hadn't been thinking to make it sound like he'd been saying outright 'I'll still sleep with you if it would make the terms more favourable', when from any perspective it was a bad idea to tie their physical relationship to their professional one, and the men of Homra had their views about honour and pride and such, but still.

That level of anger, and that disappointment he'd seen in the other man since then, that hadn't been expected.

Munakata was usually good at reading people, he knew he was, but Suoh Mikoto just seemed to confuse him more and more as time went on, and although he considered it far more likely he'd be compatible with Saruhiko – their dynamic was meant to be partnered, after all – he found himself none too certain about how Saruhiko might view his relationship with the other Duke.

Most men of power were expected to have mistresses – _masters_ (although that term certainly leant a connotation that did not belong!) were another matter. It was unnatural, if – as Munakata saw it – harmless.

And yet, it hadn't felt so harmless back on the ramparts of the Himmelreich palace, with walls of fire roaring so loud he'd barely heard the dark words of his… of Suoh, his heart racing, his anger growing; he'd been there in a last-ditch attempt to save him and yet all he'd felt like doing was strangling the man. Even before that, the irresistible pull that only strengthened as they got to know each other better and Munakata picked out flaw after flaw after flaw… it was dangerous.

The raw hopelessness given off by the Duke whenever circumstances convened to remind him somehow of Totsuka Tatara – which was often – that had been one of the few things that could push him away, made him feel like an intruder, and he'd accepted that. Suoh would never be drawn to him the same way, because his spouse was all there was for him. Saving him from himself hadn't and wouldn't change that, it only had to be accepted.

It was dangerous otherwise. Look at how Suoh conducted himself in absence of his mate for one, he told himself. The man was dangerous. It had to be accepted.

Like other things.

But at the very least he felt that Saruhiko also understood that some things had to be accepted. The Omega had the Alpha to lean back on in times of stress, and the Alpha had the Omega's welfare to focus on when potentially dangerous trivialities threatened to take his mind off it. That was the nature of the bond.

Thus it was in some ways for the best that, from his reaction, Saruhiko seemed to have taken a dislike to Suoh Mikoto. He clicked his tongue and groaned.

"I suppose I should," he muttered, hands slipping into the pockets of his outer jacket. "I've heard a lot of stories about him. He's a _hero_."

Munakata chuckled. "It shouldn't take too long. And Sir Yata Misaki may be there too: it seems you haven't had another chance to catch up with him."

Saruhiko narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. "Is that supposed to be some roundabout way of probing into my relationship with that guy? I thought we weren't going to do the whole 'tiresome verbal dance'?"

Of course, he would see it that way.

"Not at all, my lord. Only to say that you should not feel obliged not to rekindle your friendship for my sake, as I know some would have you do. I am quite assured of the security of our partnership."

That seemed to make Saruhiko uncomfortable, as Munakata had thought it might, and _there_ was another matter.

Munakata was honestly not concerned by those – and there'd been several, Sir Misaki had not taken pains to keep his thoughts a secret – who had informed him that Sir Misaki had been saying loudly and often to anyone who'd listen how he was a dead man if Sir Misaki ever got word he'd 'done anything bad' to Saruhiko. He'd told Munakata outright himself after all.

As long as he did 'nothing bad', which he had no intention of doing, he figured he should be all right on that front.

That said, the concern of his peers was more about Sir Misaki's concern for Fushimi Saruhiko than it was about Munakata's safety. It might have caused a scandal, they'd have thought – but Munakata didn't. Every noble on the continent was having an affair with half a dozen lovers if one listened to gossips: those with an ounce of sense paid it no mind so long as it had no effect on their own lives.

Also, as bitter as Saruhiko seemed to be, Munakata did not think he would ever do anything that would destabilise the government to the degree an affair on his part would have.

Though it would of course be better if the desire had not also been there, to one degree or another. Munakata decided he would have to watch carefully to ensure all his husbands needs were met by other means, as was his duty. All things considered, he didn't anticipate that it would be too difficult. Already, merely treating him as a human being had seemed to win him over better than he'd hoped for.

Only, there was this nagging feeling a little like looking into Suoh Mikoto's eyes…

"I find it difficult to be assured of anything, my grace," said Saruhiko, with faux-lightness. "By the way, just so you have a head's up, my mother is probably planning on having you murdered within a few years."

And in other news, water was wet.

"What a shame," he said casually. "I'd thought we'd been getting along rather well."

Saruhiko's eyes flickered towards him with a quickly calculating look.

"Why do I get the feeling she's not the top of the list of potential murderers you're worried about?" he asked.

Munakata forced himself to smile, though it was a touch harder than usual.

"My lord, you continue to impress me with your intuition. I think we shall become great friends."

His husband clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes but there remained a slightly worried tilt about his posture that at once set Munakata at ease about his character and urged him to set his mate at ease from.

But, as he reminded that urge firmly, it was more realistic for Saruhiko not to be set at ease. There were people after their lives, though the interests in others of keeping them alive was such that their chances of actually being killed were slim, there could be no excuse for lack of caution.

Furthermore, they were now responsible for what was in effect a broken province, and while the outlook on their resource problems was brighter now, it would be a difficult winter, and the economic problems would leave them walking a thin line for potentially decades. Not to mention all the general issues that came with leadership, and the much bigger chair thereof that lay in their future.

Each and every facet of this life lay spread out, edited, footnoted and linked from point to point inside his head and he had a duty to have that chaos constantly on the back-burner of his mind, shaped and planed until he could fit every piece neatly into place.

Suoh Mikoto was a danger to all that.

Saruhiko had the potential to become his greatest asset.

Plus, he was beginning to like him.

 

*~*~*

 

The sun shone. The leaves swayed in the wind.

Anna was laughing.

Trying his best to push the older girl on the swing, Kai had stepped on a wetter patch of grass, skidded and fallen with a light thud onto the ground. As she'd looked over her shoulder to see what had happened Mikoto had seen the hand-wringing attendant Munakata had look after his nephew for him squawk like a chicken and prepare to run out into the playground to grab the kid.

So he stuck his leg out and the young Omega fell over it and then to the ground with a much louder sound. After a moment to recover from the shock, he looked back in confusion at Mikoto.

"M—my lord!?"

Mikoto snorted and leant back against the bench.

"He's fine," he observed.

Indeed, Kai had only  squirmed backwards until he'd been sure he wouldn't get hit by the swing standing up, then done just that and brushed at his backside a little, with even a wide smile to laugh at himself. Meanwhile, Anna had turned back in time to see the attendant trip over Mikoto's foot, and couldn't help but giggle just a little at the sight, which for her was as much as a long, loud laugh. He grinned back, and nodded.

The attendant got up on shaky legs.

"But… he fell…"

"Kid bounced back after getting half his face burned off," Mikoto said, then yawned. "A tumble on the grass won't kill him."

"But – !"

Mikoto yawned again, pointedly.

With another look back at the children the attendant seemed to accept that the kid didn't need his coddling and, begrudgingly, shuffled back to stand a bit behind him.

His heart was in the right place, Mikoto knew that. But the fact of the matter was there was a significant number of people who thought Kai shouldn't have been allowed to attend his own uncle's wedding because his face wasn't pretty enough, and this guy tended to way, way overcompensate for it.

The way Mikoto saw it, it was a harsh world, and Kai was going to have to learn how to live in it.

"Lord Munakata!" Anna called out suddenly.

Her swing was facing Mikoto, so Munakata must have been approaching from behind him. His head twitched that way but he managed to refrain from looking – he was still pissed at the guy – and Anna dug her heels into the grass to stop swinging while Kai ran over. Then his daughter remembered to add –

"Lord Fushimi," and curtseyed in a way she wouldn't have done just for Munakata before running over.

This time Mikoto did look – and managed to avoid being caught in the snare of the Captain's eyes as he found out the new bride. He was looking well, in comparison to the other few times Mikoto had seen him, except for the way his expression was clearly trying to push down his horror.

Then he saw – Kai wasn't running towards Munakata.

The little guy was pretty speedy for a five-year-old. Fushimi had hardly any time to do more than freeze up and stare before he had his new nephew's arms wrapped around his legs, almost overbalancing with the force of the embrace. Then he just stood there, staring.

"Don't bother Sir Saruhiko, Kai, there's a good boy," said Munakata – only Kai didn't let go and Munakata didn't seem to care. "Why don't you show him around the gardens while I talk with Lord Suoh?"

He glanced over to the attendant and gestured for him to remain with the children, who he indeed made his move towards, eyes narrowed suspiciously at Fushimi Saruhiko.

"Thank you for your hard work, Satou-kun," Munakata murmured, as the guy passed him.

"Your grace," said 'Satou', with a quick bow.

Kai managed to extricate himself from Fushimi long enough to grab his hand and begin dragging him off back to the play area, which Fushimi went along with, stiffly. But Mikoto found he didn't see anything disgusted or like that in the boy's face. No, he looked scared for a different reason.

Mikoto's earlier line of thought stood here though too. Fushimi was just going to have to learn to conquer his fears.

So, as Munakata sat down next to him on the bench, he leaned away towards the next path over and called out,

"Oy, Yata."

The familiar head of hair a touch lighter than his own popped up. Yata was in necessarily formal dress for being in the palace at the Capitol, but he wore it messily, always earning a scoff from the nobility that Mikoto enjoyed smirking at.

"Lord Mikoto?"

"Go make sure Kokujoji's peacocks don't peck them too much."

Yata gave a short, sharp nod and ran off after the children, who'd managed to tug Fushimi down the next path towards the water-garden.

Leaving him with Munakata.

"Really, Suoh. I doubt any courtier who happened to have decided to take a nice stroll in these lovely gardens on such a beautiful day would bother themselves to harass a group of children."

Mikoto snorted. "Nah, I meant the old man's actual peacocks. He's got a whole flock on the grounds, and they're mean little bastards."

"Oh."

He kind of relished that little 'gotcha' moment, since with Munakata they happened few and far between. That relish was soured by the other's lies, of course. It must have been what, three years ago they'd been walking in these same gardens?

_"Enjoying the view, Munakata?"_

_"I would not think to comment on the skill of His Excellency's most distinguished gardeners, your grace."_

_"Yeah, I don't like them either."_

Kokujoji had his private gardens visitors were sometimes allowed to enjoy, but the main palace was tended by others who, as Munakata had explained after some pushing, had seemed to have a lot of interesting ideas for the style of the grounds and decided to use… all of them. There was no over-arching theme to the gardens, just numerous clumps of prettily arranged plants and paths through them that, particularly when viewed from the wall, looked a mess.

_"But then, I'm not a gardener,"_ he'd said, with a smile so Munakata would know it was indeed a dig at his low heritage.

They'd always liked digging at each other.

" _Well neither am I, your grace. I've honestly never had any affinity for it. Nonetheless, there are things I've picked up over the years."_

Apparently the man wasn't even going to allow himself to have an opinion on someone else's landscape choices anymore.

"Still," he said. "Best gardens in the world."

He couldn't hold back a grin when he saw Munakata twitch and saw the annoyance in his eyes.

"As you say," he replied – neutrally, but the rest of him was still in there somewhere. "The children seemed to be enjoying themselves when I arrived."

"Yeah," Mikoto said, and even though it wasn't his place added, "but you may want to talk to that guy you've got about being too soft on your nephew. Even if you do get your bride to pop out a few kids quickly, he's still going to be in the public eye."

"Not necessarily," said Munakata. "I thought I'd leave that up to him when he got older though."

"Well, for himself as a man then. He's an Alpha, right?"

Munakata nodded. "Not that that's necessarily an indicator for his future. There's going to be an Omega on the throne of Homra for the first time in five hundred years, so I understand."

The comment sounded innocent enough. Mikoto honestly didn't know that it wasn't. But he'd known Munakata for long enough and he'd heard what people had been saying; no doubt Munakata had heard it too.

"I swear to whatever deities may or may not exist, if you're about to try and arrange a marriage between them I will punch you in the face, and I might still do it even if I think you only thought better of it because I said I'd punch you in the face."

He didn't. Not when he saw the old, devilish smile on the other's face that along with saying yes, that was indeed the subject he'd been about to broach, he was enjoying making Mikoto uncomfortable with it, even though to do such a thing was hardly diplomatic.

"It would be a good match," he offered. "The nephew of one duke with the daughter of another. You wouldn't have to worry about him trying to usurp her power and they already like each other."

"They're five and ten."

"Well I wasn't going to suggest we send them down the aisle now while all the decorations were still in place. It was just something to consider for the future, that's all."

"Way, way too far in the future, Munakata," Mikoto said, in a tone which succeeded in brokering no argument, because Munakata shrugged and turned to a different matter Mikoto didn't want to talk about.

First he crossed his legs in that prim way Mikoto remembered him doing since before he'd had a single title to his name. It forced him to suppress the urge to just straight-out attack the man.

"Then, in regards to the nearer future," he started, "have you had a chance to speak with Lord Kusanagi?"

"Have you spoken with the old fart?"

Munakata hesitated. "I'll tell him before I leave," he said.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning."

"And I'll tell him before then."

"What, as in as soon as you leave the gardens, or as in ten minutes before you board the ship?"

Another hesitation, as Munakata appeared to consider his answer carefully, which as far as Mikoto could tell meant the latter was the case. He actually laughed a little, to imagine the look on Kokujoji's face when that happened.

"Munakata…" he tutted.

The other duke rolled his eyes. "Going back to the matter at hand, if you have made a decision regarding the interest rates – "

"You're so annoying," Mikoto interrupted. "We can talk about that when we're at Seven Towers in two weeks, my people will have drafted up the proper shit by then." He stared at him as hard as he could, to try and get the raw power of the feeling behind his next words out. "I'm not hanging you out to dry."

To his surprise, Munakata had the grace to look a touch ashamed that he might have thought that. So he added,

"And I don't just mean economically."

That had a more confused reaction, but Munakata didn't say anything about it. Mikoto felt him watch as he leaned back against his seat again, and smirked when, out of the corner of his eye, one of Kokujoji's peacocks came nervously out into the area, head bobbing and pecking at the ground.

"Told ya," he said.

His reward for that was a small, but more genuine smile. It felt more like the old days, as the two of them sat there – first in silence, and then trading insults.

And it wasn't like it was his job to save Munakata from becoming a lifeless shell of his former self.

Except that maybe it kind of was.

Yet he couldn't help but wonder where Fushimi Saruhiko would fit in to that.

 

*~*~*

 

"We came here before, Lord Fushimi," Yata heard his Lady say, as he approached the water-garden. "There are frogs from the southern continent in the ponds that aren't seen anywhere else in the nation, and they have huge red eyes. They're very pretty."

He slowed down a little in relief at the sound of her voice – probably the thing that terrified him most in the world was the idea that something might happen to Anna on his watch. Or at all.

When he came up to the large clearing of different water features surrounding the huge, intricately-carved fountain in the centre he saw them clustered at the far end around a smaller, oddly shaped body of water surrounded by a row of waist-high bushes with huge, flat broad leaves.

"Did it have to be frogs?" he heard Saruhiko mutter.

Saruhiko was in blue again, blue like he'd been at the luncheon he'd managed to glimpse him at a few days before. It really did suit him, he'd thought, just before that awful moment when, staring at his old friend, he'd suddenly caught the eye of Duke Munakata, who seemed to be mocking him with his smile. And the way he'd immediately drawn Saruhiko's attention to him – had that been to make fun of him too? Yata had only been able to look away as quickly as he could, head full of unwelcome thoughts – conversations he'd heard around the palace.

" _Heard the Prime Minister sent an aide to try and deliver a message to Munakata during the honeymoon,"_ a grinning female infantryman had been telling her companion _. "He wasn't allowed anywhere near the door, but even then he heard enough of what was going on inside. The Fushimi bitch seemed to be having a great time_."

He'd almost run out again the same way he'd done to take those Omegas who'd been talking shit about Kai to task, but then he'd seen her partner roll her eyes.

" _You working towards a point there, Greta?_ " the other soldier had sighed.

'Greta' had seemed put out that the other hadn't been as excited by her gossip. But she'd said anyway. " _Omegas, Noriko – that's my point. Like I've said before, whatever else you read in romance novels at the end of the day all they care about is Alpha males – 'cause the females are smaller and the Beta's don't knot. I've lost count of how many Omegas I've heard of married to Betas – every one of them getting bred by Alphas on the side, they're sluts, it's just a fact of life_."

" _Isn't your sister an Omega_?" 'Noriko' had asked, boredly.

" _Yeah, but I know for a fact my nieces aren't really my brother-in-law's. Fucking embarrassing, they just can't keep their legs closed_."

" _Right_." Yata had had the impression 'Noriko' had had to listen to this shit a dozen times before at least. " _Well, I'll be sure to tell my father next time I see him that I can't actually be his daughter since my mother can't help getting bred by Alphas on the side_."

'Greta' had cringed.

" _Look, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just saying."_

_Yeah,_ Yata thought _, you're 'just saying' a fucking load of bull, that's what._

It had probably been a good thing the other guard had been there to keep him from leaping out and potentially causing another incident that Lord Mikoto would have to yawn at later. Not that Lord Mikoto had actually ever scolded him for any time he'd done that except the one time at the tribunal that he'd gone completely crazy, but it still had to be troublesome for him.

It was none of Yata's business what a married couple got up to in their bedroom after all. And obviously it was better if Saruhiko… enjoyed it. It was a good thing.

… he'd told himself, fists clenching.

Anyway, Anna was an Omega too, so he really should have punched that guard in the face, even if she was a girl.

"Don't you like frogs, Lord Saruhiko?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, sending a pang of nostalgia through Yata that caught him somewhat off guard.

"I don't care either way. Only they're doing the frog test right now."

"What's that?" Anna asked, which Yata was glad for since he didn't know either.

Uncomfortably, Saruhiko explained, "They take your urine and inject it into a frog, and if the frog lays eggs within a day it means you're going to have a baby."

And that, that caught Yata even more off guard.

And the attendant too, with the way he spluttered –

"Your – your grace! Surely the children are too young to hear of such things!"

"Why, what do you think they'll do – try to piss on the frogs? Just so you both know, kids, that's only going to make you look like a moron."

"Your grace!"

Anna looked like she was having trouble holding her laughter in, but Yata – though he might otherwise have felt the same – remained stuck on what Saruhiko had said second earlier.

Going to have a baby.

Instantly in his head he saw an image of Saruhiko standing in the clothes he'd worn more often back in Ironpeak, belly swollen with child and that look he sometimes got on his face when Yata had maybe just managed to get him to open up a touch: that annoyance with himself for doing so over an embarrassed blush.

He could see in his head so clearly where the child would grow, probably annoying Saruhiko just as much though in Yata's head he imagined he'd secretly be happy with the new life that would take root within him, grow and flourish until he had a baby softly squirming in his arms – and Saruhiko would have such a beautiful baby…

But it wouldn't be Yata's baby.

It was probably already there, he thought, the words of the others growing dim as Anna pointed out where one of the red-eyed frogs had hopped out of the water and was crawling onto one of the leaves. Munakata seemed to do everything so effortlessly, so sickeningly perfect in every move, that no matter what the gossiping bastards of the courts said about whether Saruhiko was fit to bear a child or not, Yata was struck with sudden certainty that he was.

Hating to admit he felt a little sick to think it, but even as the part of him that knew what was right told him to be happy Saruhiko would soon have a real family, and that he should offer himself up to protect said family, his or not, there was a darker part that hated Munakata for sealing things off so definitively.

Maybe if he died young enough and Saruhiko was still…

He clenched his fists. Munakata was somehow important to Lord Mikoto and one of the heroes of the Empire, so that was a horrible thing to think. Plus, he was a better candidate for marriage than Yata all around: he at least hadn't killed off or participated in killing off anyone close to Saruhiko, unlike Yata, who then and there could also imagine Aya's cruel smile peering at him from his memories of the wedding night.

Still, that image of a heavily pregnant Saruhiko also lingered in his head – at the same time he stared at the real one before his eyes. Lord Mikoto and Munakata would be in contact a lot still, over the next few years. Maybe he'd get to see him like that, however painful it would be.

However painful, there was another feeling in him that urged him on, made him feel a little light-headed, but he didn't quite know…

"Shouldn't you be paying better attention, Mi-sa-ki?"

Eyes fixed around the shape of the Omega he stupidly hadn't noticed Saruhiko's attention switch to him, and while the children knelt by the pond to watch the frogs and Kai's attendant held back with his hands wringing like he was going to have to dive in and rescue the kid from the foot-and-a-half of water at any moment, Saruhiko managed to extricate himself from Kai's grip around his coat – and with uncharacteristic gentleness – and sidled up to Yata.

"It's not like you to be lost in _thought_ ," he said.

An obvious dig at his intelligence, which sent that nostalgia into overdrive again. Yata was still himself enough that he couldn't help his reply –

"Who said you could use my first name! … your grace."

Saruhiko snorted. Then in the blink of an eye he'd reached into his pocket and pulled out…

Yata's breath caught in his throat.

_The other half of the nautilus_.

He'd kept it.

…

And now he was holding it out to Yata like he wanted him to take it.

"I suppose since you're still wearing yours you recognise it," Saruhiko observed.

Going red, Yata muttered, "I, um… you know when I gave it to you I didn't mean… I mean, I didn't know that – "

"Even though there's no chance it was anything other than dumb luck, I guess you can't say the magical protective powers were proved wrong. Here we are again."

That was right. Yata had known that would be right, however much he might have worried, not being there to protect Saruhiko in person.

So why…

"Since all that's over, Misaki should take it back for when he gets a real girlfriend. If he can. It's not like he'll ever be welcome enough in Westermont to get another one, not so long as that woman's ruling it."

That didn't matter, his home was in Ashrock now; and the nautilus wouldn't mean anything to the girls there. He ignored Saruhiko's cursory insult though, because the idea of the rest of what he said was baffling beyond the idea he'd give the other half of the nautilus to some person who'd find it meaningless.

Why would Saruhiko want to give back his half? It was _his_. Yata had given it to _him_ , not to another, and it had protected him all this time, even if he'd told himself it hadn't been the pendant deep down, he had to know…

"But… it's yours," he found himself echoing his own thoughts stupidly.

"You bought it," Saruhiko pointed out. "Money that would have been better spent on provisions for your idiotic escape from the Countess, but you somehow pulled it off anyway."

"We pulled it off because of you," Yata said, though it was becoming more difficult to talk—his heart was sinking, and he could feel the pull in his throat. "You saved us."

"I always hated those Mutts," Saruhiko replied, like it was an excuse – eyes averted, like it was only trying to be. "Getting them scolded in front of those they thought themselves better than was worth it."

Yata shook his head. "I can't… I know it was supposed to stand for an 'engagement', Saruhiko, but all this time to me it was just our bond, _ours_ , and even if… even if…" he couldn't voice the idea that their bond was broken when then and there with him right in front of Yata he couldn't force his brain to comprehend the concept. "You still saved me. And everything that happened before that still happened."

Maybe, after what had happened later, Saruhiko preferred to pretend it hadn't. After all, Yata still hadn't said –

"I… I'm sorry, your grace," he blurted out.

_'Your grace'? Since when do I call him by a title when we were already talking normally?_ he wondered, as Saruhiko asked, "For what?"

Still unable to repeat what Aya had said and possibly face Saruhiko's real feelings on the matter, Yata cringed.

"Everything," he said.

Saruhiko smirked. "I suppose that covers it," he said. "But you shouldn't be sorry, Misaki. My life looks to be running along very smoothly from here on in."

He proffered the pendant out again, but Yata still refused to even think of taking it, the other's words momentarily making his annoyance outshine his fear and having him huff.

"You realise that when you say things in that way it makes it sound like you're lying, don't you? And I still meant what I said before – if you ever wanted to leave you could come and live in Ashrock, under Lord Mikoto's protection."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, as Saruhiko rolled his eyes dramatically and walked past Yata to a larger part of the water garden, climbing up onto a small bridge that overlooked the star-like lilies. Yata spared the children a glance to make sure they were still occupied – they seemed to be, thought he had a feeling Anna had quickly averted her eyes from him when he looked – and followed him.

He froze when Saruhiko held the nautilus out over the water.

"Don't look at me like that," the Omega told him.

Yata only tried to tell himself there really was nothing of Saruhiko's parents in their son at that moment, despite how it looked.

Saruhiko continued, "The custom of the nautilus might be obscure, but if people see a duke's spouse wearing one, much less an Emperor's, they will look into it." He tensed up. "I can't let this cast doubt on my future."

His arm was shaking. Yata was frozen still.

They were staring into each other so hard but Yata couldn't understand what he was seeing. Did he mean that, about his future? Or was it because he didn't want to be reminded by the pendant every day that one 'fiancé' had killed the other, but still had affection enough left over to Yata not to have dropped it in a fireplace laughing by now?

If it was what Saruhiko wanted, Yata's duty as a knight should have prompted him to accept it.

But… he wanted…

"My, my. What a pretty shell."

The endless moment ended. From behind, the elegant figure of the Duke of Moonfalls glided out onto the path in such a way that Yata wouldn't have been surprised to see Munakata walk on the water Saruhiko was going to throw the nautilus into itself.

In Yata's imagination, Munakata swept past him like he was doing now only to pluck the shell out of Saruhiko's hand and toss it in the lake himself like so much trash. Yata _knew_ he knew what it was.

He stopped breathing when the duke actually did take hold of the pendant. Though he only held it closer, thumb running over it as Saruhiko let it slip numbly away.

"Whoever made it even carved the little ridges. Fascinating."

He smiled. Then made as if to offer it back to whichever one of them would take it, hand switching from Yata to Saruhiko's direction in turn.

Neither of them moved an inch.

Yet this only made the man's smile wider, and he swung it back into his own hand.

"Well, I'll keep it until someone else claims it. Unfortunately, if not entirely surprising, his grace Lord Suoh has decided he has better things to do than talk to me," he nodded back to the gap in the hedgerow he'd come in through, and Lord Mikoto, who was standing there now, "and so I thought we might as well enjoy the rest of our evening out here."

Yata was surprised to find when he looked at Lord Mikoto that his liege-lord's eyes were on Saruhiko, though perhaps not as surprised as Saruhiko, who immediately edged closer to Munakata, who was putting the nautilus in his own pocket.

Though he couldn't say he liked it, Yata was relieved at least it wasn't at the bottom of a lake.

_Saruhiko wouldn't have really tossed it in_ , he told himself. _He was only waiting for you to take it off his hands, because it was painful for him._

Because of what you did.

Not for the first time Yata wondered what he could have done differently. As usual his wishes took his mind to a world where he'd managed to bring Saruhiko with him out of Westermont, safely into the court at Ashrock where somehow his presence there prevented all the other deaths that had cause so much pain to the people he cared about.

Somehow, in his imaginings, Lord Totsuka who he'd only seen once from afar, Lady Anna's other family and even Munakata's were still alive in this scenario, but Saruhiko had married someone else. Someone he'd chosen for himself because he really loved them.

Someone who'd saved him, from the things Aya had talked about.

That impossible world had never existed, but the bond between them still had – that shell whose two halves fit together – and in his head Yata found himself begging any deity that could hear him that Saruhiko wouldn't pretend otherwise because Yata had helped kill Sukuna.

_Please._

_Even if he hates me… don't let him forget me._

 

*~*~*

 

The sun had set. The breeze made a small patch of cloud drift against the moon. In the distance, the horizon was still yellow, so it wasn't too difficult to see.

"Earlier in the garden," Saruhiko found himself asking. "You knew what that stupid necklace was, didn't you?"

"It was yours, I believe," said his husband, nodding to one of the guards they passed up on the outer wall. That guard seemed to recognise Saruhiko, and his mouth – close to all he could see under the helmet – twisted in horror as he must have realised what direction they were travelling.

Despite this the guard said nothing, of course. They continued without incident.

"Then why do you have it?"

Munakata shrugged. "No one else was claiming it," he said. "And while I won't deny its presence is problematic, I sense the feelings it would have taken with it had anything happened to it are things that need to be resolved in their own time before it's claimed again."

"Sounds like a load of shit to me."

Gods, but he was relieved the Alpha had come and taken it at the last second. If he had dropped it, or if Misaki had called his bluff… his heart was still pounding in his chest.

_Keep it safe. Please let him keep it safe. I can't stand to look at it, but…_

"And it may very well be that."

He paused – talking, not walking, though he did slow down.

"He's just around this next corner, my lord."

Saruhiko took a deep breath. The night had seemed to go darker in an instant.

"Are you sure you're not going to try and talk me out of this?" Saruhiko asked, half-joking.

Munakata gave him a strange look. Truly, though he had the brains to come up with several reactions he might have had to those words, he couldn't think of a single one that fit that expression.

"Would it surprise my lord very much to know I believe this is a good idea?"

"Only if it's not secretly a plot to throw me off the wall in revenge."

The Alpha smiled. "Then my lord will be surprised."

Well. He seemed to be getting used to Saruhiko's sense of humour rather quickly.

Not half as quickly as that corner came; nor the dizziness that came over Saruhiko when he looked up and saw what he'd asked Munakata to show him – this last chance to look before they left the Capitol.

The Mihashira wall still played the gallery to the greatest spoils of the war: the corpses.

Sukuna's had been too burnt, as had Isana's, and Yukari had been given a hero's funeral before the war had ended.

But Hisui was up there. And Iwafune. And…

This had been a bad idea.

If there had still been rotting flesh clinging to his father's face, he would have seen the shrunken skin pulling the shadow of the former features into an expression he might have imagined was eternal agony.

But Suoh hadn't beheaded Niki, he'd burned him – and left only the blackened skull behind.

And Niki was still grinning.

 

*~*~*

 

How many times would that grin haunt his dreams: the grasping, predatory eyes rolling back up from the inside of the skull and capturing him, sitting balanced in their sockets? Certainly that night and in such a way he didn't imagine would end soon after only that one. The less attention he spent on them during the days they'd travelled after that, the harder they came back to torment him at night, and the confined nature of the ship hardly helped.

His husband did the best thing Saruhiko could have thought for him to do – brought various study materials relating to those matters of state they'd talked about that, many he'd asked for, some Munakata had recommended. Even so, it had been difficult to concentrate when the noise of the engine made him think constantly of the firestorms.

Kisa hadn't let Aya say goodbye, any more really than she'd let her say hello in the first place. They'd drop by within the year though, there was something not to look forward to, as he doubted he'd be able to spend much more quality time with Aya then either.

Misaki had been waiting on the wall outside the airport. Saruhiko had seen him from the window, and the shine from a ray of sunlight glinting off a red glass bead.

_Why?_ he'd thought to himself, over and over. Why should Saruhiko mean so much to him now? Hadn't he dismissed him, both on his wedding night and the day before they'd left?

Had Misaki seen through that, somehow?

Thus it was that even scanning over the lists and columns, scouring streets and rivers snaked on maps and committing word after word to memory without truly letting the meaning of those words reach him, he didn't feel anything in connection to those reports until the ruined palace of Tenrou Point was blackening the very ground in front of his eyes.

It had not been a long journey, by airship. Munakata captained his craft too well for that.

But how he now wished he could have stayed on that ship, where the firestorms could only haunt his imagination.

A watercolour of the Tenrou palace done over twenty years previously had passed his eyes back in the Capitol. A white-marble front of gleaming pillars set against three much older grey-stone towers, running along an ivy-covered cliff face from which one of the largest 'falls' of Moonfalls emptied into the river some miles off, but still visible in the painting.

Now not even that waterfall remained to give reference to someone who had seen the painting Saruhiko had – the airstrikes had destabilised the cliffs and sent them tumbling, the changing flow splitting the river above into several branches that  spurted all over the place and flooded the land where the famous Tenrou gardens had once been.

As for the palace; all three towers had been levelled, and of almost fifty pillars seventeen remained upright, blackened and broken.

Munakata put his arm around Saruhiko's shoulders, startling him, as much from the fact that he was smiling as from the contact. They'd had hardly any since his heat.

There'd been no need.

"Believe it or not it's looking much better," Munakata said, gently into his ear. "Some of the green's come back up on the drier parts, and there are liveable areas beyond the front where the stables were."

Saruhiko flinched. The kiss his husband laid against his head in response was unexpected, and strangely not unwelcome.

"Don't worry," Munakata told him. "There are much more suitable accommodations in the town that escaped the raids." He snorted. "Romantic as the idea may be, I must personally confess some doubt as to a stable being an appropriate place for our child to be born."

Ah, yes.

Funny how looking at the corpse of his husband's childhood home, whose death he'd played a significant role in, could make him forget all about his current condition – the one the physician and his frogs had proven just before they'd left.

 

*~*~*

 

 


	9. The Marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally finished another chapter! It was a long wait, but then again, it was an even longer chapter. Hopefully it will post all right... anyway, thank you everyone for the unceasing adulation, I'll answer comments tomorrow because I'm as lazy as ever.
> 
> In this chapter, we time-skip to see how Munakata and Fushimi have settled into their wedded bliss, and a crowd of visitors pop by Tenrou Point to share some quality time with their buddies. Sex and violence naturally abound. Enjoy!

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER…

 

The first sun of the new year glinted off the bleb of an icicle on the Tenrou House window, just before the melted droplet fell.

"I stand by my earlier remarks. To have you sit in on official business was one thing, your grace – to have you do so in your condition, especially at this stage, is preposterous."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes towards the fat and moustached mayor of the city, who had been in his position for almost twenty years come the summer.

Twenty was a nice round number, he thought. An excellent time to bring the tenure to a close.

"And yet here I am, Lord Ascheim," he replied. "And I don't intend on leaving while you idiots screw things up without me."

"Your grace," said another, gently – some elderly member of the Enomoto family, whose county was one of the three that surrounded Tenrou –  before Ascheim could translate the blustering stutter noises he was making into actual words. "None of us doubt your capabilities in these matters, condition or not, but we are all of us concerned for our liege's consort – and our future duke or duchess. Your grace's physicians have all but begged you to take more rest during this crucial time!"

The first part of that sentence, at least, was a load of crap: courtiers and officials had doubted him since he'd arrived, mostly survivors from Habari's day to be sure, and many such as Ascheim still did. But he did not think it so for this man, Enomoto… something-or-other, he was the castellan of the Enomoto house in Tenrou but Saruhiko didn't remember his full name. Either way he let it slide.

As for the second thing, what of it? He'd been told he'd lose the first lump within a few weeks of the confirmation that it had appeared, and that hadn't happened. He'd been told any work at all even in those early stages would be more likely to kill the thing and yet it was still there. He'd been told making cursory visits to the destitute and gazing upon the destruction of the lands would be too much for him, and yet the little thing had managed to cling onto life regardless.

Now he was sitting at the head of the City Council's chambers with a huge mass protruding from his stomach, weeks away from crawling its way out, so the physicians said. It was a heavy burden, literally, but as his stomach had grown so had his popularity with the people, who mostly considered it good enough of an omen to make up for his heritage.

That and the railroad, which – though it had not gone smoothly, to be sure – had still served its purpose in keeping the people of Moonfalls from starving. From freezing too, for the most part, though there had still been some loss. Not much more than a bad winter might have seen either way; those hadn't been the issues.

"Besides," said another official, "some of the material that has been brought to our attention is far too horrific to be thrust upon your mind. What if the child was affected, your grace?"

How sweet it had been when only a week ago a text had arrived from his dear husband by a Jungle obstetrician who, after three years study of bearers affected by the horrors of the war and those who lived far west enough that it was not so, had found no correlation between a mother's seeing horrible images during pregnancy and a child emerging deformed in mind or body. So much for that superstition.

Still, "Worse material than the mothers of the city saw as their friends and family burned alive?" He smirked, as many of those present cringed. "If they can soldier on then I think an Omega of noble blood could probably survive."

Although sometimes it was difficult to tell whether having 'noble blood' was meant to make him stronger or weaker. He noticed the hatred sent his way from the eyes of Sir Rudolf Sasayama – the staunchest opponent to the railroad in the city – and immediately guessed what was on his mind.

With a sigh he turned directly to him and asked plainly, "Who got run over this time, Sir Rudolf?"

The older, balding man clenched his fists. As a decorated officer Saruhiko had a small degree of respect for him, but his opposition to progress for the sake of what amounted to dislike of change was far more of a factor in Saruhiko's opinion of him.

"No human life was lost, thank the gods!" he hissed, "but three sheep were reduced to so much offal in the past week; two on the so-called Tower Line, one on the Stone. I assume your grace has not forgotten how precious livestock has become in these troubled times; how devastating such a loss is to those who suffer it?"

"Mm, we do not all have the luxury of having meals brought to us on silver platters," said the city Bishop, pointedly, and as if he wasn't even fatter on his own than Saruhiko was with a whole other human stuck in his gut.

Indeed, even Sir Rudolf only glared at him with contempt for his hypocrisy.

"Of course," said Saruhiko, dryly. Then, "Sir Rudolf, you know my position on this – those three sheep are not going to be the straw that tips me over into admitting that the machine that saved an estimated four thousand lives this winter, and continues to provide transport and employment to the people, was a mistake all along because said people are still getting used to its nature."

It irked him to say the next part, but in the same recent letter that had brought him that article, Munakata had also sent his advice to the tune of seeking compromise more often than he had been doing. He sighed again.

"If you give me your personal assurance that the owners of said sheep were not to blame through negligence, I'll authorise equivalent compensation for their loss without investigation."

Sir Rudolf's fists clenched; likely because it was a reasonable suggestion and he'd been hoping to hear something outrageous.

"A most agreeable offer," said the elderly Enomoto castellan, with a tone that clearly suggested Sir Rudolf accept it as such.

"Too much so, if your ask me," said the representative from the Bank of Midlands. "After the incident outside of Jartsuki the administration took pains far greater than the necessary precautions they'd taken in the first place to make sure the commoners understood exactly what having a railroad meant, and the owners of these animals still allowed this to happen. I see no reason not to assume it was through negligence; Sir Rudolf's word or not."

Oh yes, the railroad had not been without its hiccups. The height of sentiment against it had come once the worst of the winter had been over, a few days after the first melt. Out near the 'Wood' Line that ran towards Lightningfort a woman and her two-year-old had been out walking and crossed the tracks just as a train carrying timber to Tenrou for transportation further east had happened to be approaching.

Clearly not understanding the machine, the woman had simply waved as she might have at a horse-and-cart in the understanding that it would stop for her. The train, of course, could do no such thing even as the driver had frantically applied the brakes, and both woman and child had been killed.

Generally it was thought of as in poor taste to proclaim the woman an idiot, after such a tragic death. But Saruhiko had been hard pressed not to scream it at some of the morons who wanted to use it as an excuse to dismantle the whole system, as if they should have given up on airships if someone had decided they'd prefer to get off before landing at the airport and fallen to their death.

He supposed he should have put more effort into 'fool'-proofing the system. He of all people knew what fools there were in the world.

There was a knock at the chamber door.

"Enter," Saruhiko said, grateful for the interruption.

The door opened. "Your grace," the messenger who entered said, without preamble, "The Duke of Homra's party has been spotted approaching the city; they should arrive within the hour."

Less grateful now for the interruption, Saruhiko still managed to force a smirk.

"Well, there you have it. With any luck Lord Suoh has brought no end of sheep to sacrifice to his heathen god while he's here – perhaps he'll spare a couple for our endeavours?"

As he grabbed onto the table to hoist himself up – the guards in the room twitched but knew by now not to give nor offer aid – another secretary of something or another said –

"Surely you will not say such things to Lord Suoh's face, your grace?"

And Saruhiko brushed himself off with a few deep breaths. Fuck, Kisa had advised him in one of her letters to have three of these things, what was she thinking! Irritated he replied to the secretary,

"Why, what will he do, burn me to death like he did my father? I think not."

"Your grace, you are right to feel hostile towards the man who caused your father's death – "

No he wasn't; he'd only said that to see if he could get the biggest collective cringe yet from the council.

" – but the war is over, and we are in debt to Homra to the tune of a large sum – "

"One hundred and forty-three thousand, eight hundred and seventeen marks," Saruhiko said over his shoulder, heading to the door. "Twenty-seven by the day's end, thanks to the interest; I keep a running count, and I'd say Suoh cares about as much for any of it as I do for the lot of you."

The door closed behind him.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he just about heard from inside the room the words, " – went better than usual, I think," followed closely by, "Dear gods I'll be glad when Munakata gets back," and, "Why? He's the one who put him in charge of the whole thing in the first place?"

Whatever the answer to that was was muttered too quietly for Saruhiko to make out, but he imagined it was a good one because the Bishop immediately cried out, "Lord Eckhart! To say such things in the company of gentlemen!"

And because Saruhiko felt he hadn't made them all cringe enough for that meeting, he called back through the door, "I can still hear you all!" and took some amusement in imagining them all flinching in the dead silence that followed before he walked off.

Tenrou House had been a secondary home of the Habari family within the city; much smaller than the palace had been there or any other palace Saruhiko had seen. Still, it was six storeys high and lavishly decorated inside and out; sculptures on the frame of the building and portraiture and fine ceramics within. And of course, as it was the Midlands, ceremonial swords everywhere. It was the smallest house Saruhiko had ever spent a significant portion of his time in, but having less far to go to get around had become a boon in recent months.

As if to remind him why, the little monster decided to give him a little kick. By this point he couldn't say he was unused to the strange sensation, yet it had come as a shock and he stopped in the middle of the corridor to right himself.

"Your grace, are you all right – "

The messenger's inquiry was cut off by the sound of running footsteps and the familiar cry,

"Don't run, young master!"

…as almost in a flash the other little monster came racing around the next corridor. Saruhiko knew where this was heading, but even the better part of a year hadn't given him a clue of how to avoid the small arms suddenly encircling his legs whenever they would choose to do so. He grimaced and looked down at the softly-covered head snuggling at the side of his bump.

Satou came running around the corner too, panting, and that one really needed to get in shape or Kai was going to outstrip him far enough to get lost one of these days.

"Kai-sama! – oh, Lord Fushimi, please forgive me!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. He had nothing to say to Satou, so he spoke directly to Kai.

"I suppose you heard Suoh and his brat are going to be here soon?"

Kai looked up at him with a smile. Saruhiko, though to be honest he didn't know for sure, thought with relief that by now he'd learned to control his reaction upon looking at that face to a mere aversion of the eyes that, to be honest, was his default reaction to being spoken to by most people – unless they were being stupid enough to warrant a glare. Which was often, to be fair.

As for Kai, he still didn't speak, and Saruhiko saw no reason for him to so he'd never done anything about it. He didn't need to speak for Saruhiko to know he'd want to ride along in the coach.

"Come on then," he sighed. Kai hugged him tighter. "Well, we can't go if you don't let me move now, can we?"

Reluctantly, his nephew released him from his grasp but with his good hand – the one whose fingers could still open and close properly – he clutched the bottom of Saruhiko's sleeve. It made him feel a touch lopsided and thus further off-balance than he already found himself with the added weight on the front, but he honestly wasn't bothered enough to complain with more than a non-committed groan.

Thankfully the carriage was waiting for them at the palace doors, and much as Saruhiko despised being helped or touched he begrudgingly accepted Satou's when it came to clambering in.

Then one of the horses made its own noise unexpectedly, and somehow Saruhiko was reminded of the day, what felt like years ago, that he and Kisa had taken a similar carriage to that old temple to offer their surrender.

It seemed stupid of that past him now to have thought he'd been going to his death. More difficult to think of though, was the idea of that earlier him having so little to think of outside of that supposed impending death, and Misaki.

No produce reports. No tax reports. No debt updates. No building schedules. No grievance petitions.

No spawn draining away his energy.

No husband on the eve of returning from a month-long absence. His thoughts drifted towards that more than the others as their modest twelve-guard escort came up alongside them and the carriage began to move.

In truth he and Munakata had spent far more time apart than together since their wedding, and with the vast amount of work to be done Saruhiko was quite sure the Alpha had thought as little of it as he had. Yet he was always somehow nervous when they found themselves about to be reunited, and yet again somehow they always seemed to click back into place as soon as they were.

Perhaps it was only that he was nervous because he still didn't take that affinity for granted. He'd been quick to realise that Munakata was either only as annoying as he seemed, or was being way to unnecessarily convoluted in whatever plans he had to manipulate Saruhiko, but even so – there was a side of him Saruhiko also realised quickly enough that he couldn't see anything at all of.

He had a feeling it had to do with his dead family. Their interactions regarding that issue had mostly consisted of Saruhiko daring him to take vengeance, and Munakata making some witty remark in reply, and even that had only lasted about two weeks. They'd never talked about it properly, nor did Saruhiko particularly want to, but he knew all families weren't like his and he had a feeling, somehow, that his husband's sorrow for that loss was so private that even he didn't know he was feeling it.

The only other thing bothering him was the mystery lover. Saruhiko had cottoned onto that one pretty quick too, not that that had been difficult, what with Munakata's answer to Saruhiko's early-on question of how many mistresses he was going to have to take pains to avoid was answered plainly with,

_"There's only the one paramour, you'll be glad to know. And theirs is an identity that requires discretion."_

Saruhiko hadn't inquired further. And it hadn't been because he hadn't cared, although he didn't, but because he actually had the feeling that Munakata would have told him, if he'd asked. It was almost as if he didn't want it to be that easy.

As to why it bothered him, well. He supposed it would have been nice if he was the only person in someone's life. But then, it wasn't like there was only one person in his.

There was a sharp tug at his sleeve to remind him of just that.

Kai pulled him out of his musings and he must have been dozed off, because they were on the outskirts of the city and the sounds of the urban centre were distant, and not in the direction Saruhiko would have thought they'd be assuming they were meeting Suoh's train, newcomer to the area as he still considered himself.

But then he heard the sound of horses and realised that Suoh had decided _not_ to take the train. Typical. He must have altered his plans to have gotten there this soon in lieu of that.

A moment later the pulled up close enough to see the approaching procession; a mix of blue and red Saruhiko had not expected, though he soon saw why it was. Munakata's was the first face he picked out.

Dressed casually for a homecoming – or what would have been considered casual back in Westermont – his husband sat astride a pure white horse like some hero of legend. The white mount contrasted with the earthy brown beside it upon which Duke Suoh Mikoto's eyes were the next to catch Saruhiko's, as magnetic as always even from a distance, though Munakata's had the much greater pull for him.

With a quick glimpse he noted the presence of Kushina Anna, and then he clapped eyes on the familiar flags flying from the carriage of the third expected guest, who was also early but not entirely unexpected in that.

It was just the sort of thing Kisa would do, after all. Show up early and sneer at him for not being prepared. The joke was on her though, Saruhiko had never planned on wasting any money on lavish spectacles for her sake anyway. Moonfalls had enough problems on its plate financially.

Still, outside of sneering he wasn't too worried about her sudden wish to be at his side during the upcoming birth – a publicity stunt, in all likelihood. He had no wish, it had to be said, to expose whatever he gave birth to to its grandmother, it hadn't annoyed him nearly enough for that, but it wasn't like it would remember any of it later on, and Kisa would hopefully not stay more than a month.

As for any other reason she might have been there, all three Midlands' duchies had strict succession rules: if the child inside him was a male of either the Alpha or Beta varieties, then it was automatically Munakata's heir. However, Saruhiko didn't think it likely that Kisa would try to arrange for Munakata's death on the spot in a bid to rule Moonfalls through her grandchild even if it was a coveted Alpha male; there was no guarantee the child would survive infancy for one thing.

Saruhiko leant back against the cushioned seat of his own carriage, making a tired noise. Even stretching over to look out the window had tired him out – that was how bad the situation was. He clicked his tongue.

"Your grace," the driver called out to them after a moment. "The duke is riding on ahead towards us, shall I stop the carriage?"

In all honesty Saruhiko would have taken any excuse to stop the stupid thing.

"Go ahead," he muttered, and the rocking of the giant lump on his midsection came to a blissful end.

There was only another moment for undue nervousness before the sound of approaching hoofbeats slowed and then Munakata was right there, outside his window.

Smiling at him.

"I'm back, my lord," he said.

All at once, even the child inside him seemed to calm down.

The realisation of that made him go red, and since there was no one important enough around to expect him to say the typical 'welcome back', Saruhiko didn't mind looking away and muttering –

"Took you long enough."

As Munakata dismounted, Kai managed to get the coach door on the other side opened, and though Satou yelled and grabbed at him, he slipped out and began to run around the back of the carriage. Saruhiko couldn't help but look out to make sure he reached the other side, adding,

"Though you weren't due back until tomorrow, and by air. I thought you were at Marble Bridge, my grace?"

There was a louder thud then one might have expected when Kai collided, arms open, with his uncle. Munakata bent over a little to return the embrace, but said to Saruhiko,

"A messenger from the Akiyama family arrived to express his lord's advice that I _not_ go to Marble Bridge, at this juncture. Though I am planning to, within the week."

The emphasis on that 'not' read plainly to Saruhiko like an assassination attempt had been – perhaps narrowly – avoided. He took a deep breath. While Moonfalls was getting back on its feet in terms of supply and infrastructure, things were moving slower in Riverfalls, and the situation hadn't improved in the Grey Lands either, with the power vacuum still unfilled and everyone and their uncle leaving a bomb or two at the only economic boons those lands still had – the quarries.

There were too many factions to name who wanted stone for themselves, and too many leftover arms from the war for it to be difficult to attack one who happened to be selling to someone other than them. There had even been rogue Moonfalls elements involved in at least one of those attacks, and a new disaster befell them every week.

Marble Bridge was not too far from Mount Divide, the point where the borders of four provinces met – Moonfalls, Riverfalls, the Grey Lands and the Black Mountains. That and the train station made it the ideal place to meet to talk about these issues and, thus, the ideal target for terrorist attack. The few days Munakata had meant to be there had only been to arrange a later, more comprehensive meeting, but even that it seemed was too dangerous at present.

But…

"We did have word you'd left for Marble Bridge," Saruhiko pointed out.

The smile on Munakata's face became uncharacteristically forced. "Akiyama-kun sent the most trusted courier who looked the most like me, as it turned out."

"He doubled as your double?"

"As you say. We have not yet heard word of how he fared in that."

Saruhiko averted his eyes again. "Whatever. If he died it was only what he was _supposed_ to do; in your place."

Munakata met his eyes fondly. "As you say."

There was a pause. Then the Duke's look took on a far more genuine expression of pleasure.

"I must say, my lord, you're looking quite well. Our child must be healthy indeed in there."

"Nn. I could do with it being a little less healthy."

Munakata chuckled. "Indeed, the one drawback is you do look a little tired."

Well, lately he hadn't been sleeping well, and though it wasn't just the spawn's fault exactly there was no way he was telling Munakata what was. Not here and now, at any rate.

He could feel himself going red again.

All that was set aside for later though, when the sound of other horses approaching reached his ears. Not wanting to have to stretch to lean out the window again he instead searched Munakata for a reaction and saw the gentle expression on his face turn to a smirk even before he looked behind himself.

That look told Saruhiko there was no danger, not that he'd have expected it except for what he'd just been going over in his head, but he also felt almost immediately like he could guess by it the identity of at least one of the riders.

Confirming his suspicions, Munakata let Kai go, turned around and called out, "Are you still so impatient that you couldn't let me have a proper greeting with my spouse?"

"Guess I am," Suoh Mikoto called back, a few seconds before his horse trotted him into view. "Hello, Kai," he said, swinging his leg around and dismounting. His eyes flickered over to Saruhiko. "Fushimi."

Saruhiko raised his eyebrows at the casual address. Kai clung a little closer to Munakata, but still looked up at Suoh with something that Saruhiko found annoyingly close to being 'impressed'. In such annoyance he returned the greeting,

"Suoh. I take it you expect my husband's men to find housing for your horses as well as for you and your people?"

He gave a short laugh. "Is that not what's expected anymore when a guest with a horse comes to stay at this place?"

"It's expected that someone with your resources can afford to take the train."

Suoh patted his horse's neck but kept his eyes on Saruhiko. "Maybe. I still don't see any reason not to stick to what I know. As I'm sure your husband will tell you, it's a limited list."

Somehow, seeing the way Munakata chuckled at that made Saruhiko even more annoyed.

"I could compose a book of reasons, personally," he told Suoh. "But I don't suppose it would be any use to you, your grace."

"Nah," said Suoh, now grinning widely. "Never was much of one for reading. Still, you're looking well, Fushimi. Should have known this guy would pull it off on the wedding night itself. Have I told you how much I hate you today, Munakata?"

"Have I yet to express the mutuality of the sentiment?" Munakata asked in reply.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. It did strike him though, that Suoh himself had apparently 'pulled it off' on his first attempt as well, as was well known, with the tutor who had been appointed to teach him how to fornicate as an Alpha should, which was apparently something they did in the South.

It seemed strange, therefore, that he'd had no children with Totsuka Tatara, and though Saruhiko could have made a snide remark about that he thought better of it very quickly. Suoh wasn't Munakata, after all.

He wondered whether he would have had the guts to use the 'overcooked, like your family' line or something like it had it been Suoh he'd been stuck with instead, and was glad he'd never had to find out. That thought too was brought to a close when Suoh called over his shoulder,

"Oy, Yata – the lord consort asked for you."

Maybe Saruhiko would have learned to hate Suoh well enough that remarks about his dead husband would have flown thick and fast, he certainly despised him now. Munakata gave Suoh a look, but Saruhiko soon saw only Misaki, riding into view with the almost ever-present look of confusion and…

Misaki.

Misaki.

_Misaki._

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The better part of a year hadn't helped at all. The heart that Munakata's presence had calmed began to gallop, the thought-destroying pure _feeling_ of being near the other breaking out of the place he'd walled it up in; bricked with every single matter he'd had to deal with from the problem of not letting the province starve over the winter to the Agent of the House insisting they needed his input on what colour the curtains were going to be in the new wing.

All of it crumbled, and there was Misaki – and Saruhiko felt exactly the same as he had that day he'd followed Kisa away from that first negotiation and heard him calling after him. He looked just the same, even on a horse that looked like it could have been Suoh's horse's brother.

As Saruhiko recalled, horsemanship had been something the 'Crow of Homra' had been most valued for, probably part of the reason he'd never thought it might be Misaki, who to his knowledge had never sat atop a horse in Westermont.

He certainly seemed to suit it now. For one thing, it made him look a lot taller.

"Sa-Saruhiko?" he mumbled, in the space Saruhiko's capability for rational thought had to take to regroup itself.

Swallowing, he let his old grin come up onto his face so he'd at least have something to say.

"Well, well. The noble knight Sir Misaki. We are honoured to have you with us." The last part came out stilted, but Misaki's attention had been caught by something else.

"Saruhiko…" and too much so for him to remember proper etiquette, as usual. "You – you – the…"

Misaki was pointing, wide-eyed, at him and slightly lower than the heart one would normally point to. Saruhiko glanced down at the embroidery on the robe fitted specially to go over his swollen stomach and snorted.

"Yes, Misaki, there's a baby in there."

With a face that was getting redder and redder, Misaki stared at that most obvious tell of pregnancy, and began to stutter like he was talking to a girl. "You – you – c-congratulations on your… uh… baby. Being in there, I mean. W-well done."

"Thanks," said Saruhiko dryly. "Although it wasn't all my doing. Misaki does know where babies come from, right?"

That question got him a delightful yelp and, "Damn it, Saruhiko – don't make fun of me!" but there was something annoying in the way the two Alphas snorted, like it was all in good fun.

Saruhiko was honestly trying to push Misaki away again, even if he'd slipped back into that step without consciously deciding to do so. But it was for the best that he had, he decided, only perhaps inadvisable to go too far down that road in front of the famously protective Duke Suoh. Or in public at all.

Oh, there was a part of him that hoped Misaki would see what he was trying to hide one day: the truly terrible person that Saruhiko was, the deaths he'd caused, the lives he'd ruined – he wanted that to be what Misaki thought of when he thought of him and he wanted him to think of him like that often: the terrible fate he'd narrowly escaped.

Maybe Misaki would be better off like that, or maybe, and more likely, Saruhiko just wanted someone to know about those things and hate him for them, and Misaki seemed like the best person for that because he'd be held back by the debt he owed Saruhiko from making it public knowledge.

But.

But there was a feeling that as long as that nautilus shell existed, Misaki would still hold out hope for him. And Saruhiko should have asked Munakata to give him the shell back so he could burn it, or drop in in a lake, or have the best of both worlds and toss it over the rim of a volcano… only he couldn't do it. He couldn't ask Munakata to give it back. He couldn't put it in danger like that.

"Well, we're all happy to see each other once more," Munakata said smoothly. "Ah, Satou-kun. If you wouldn't mind seeing to my horse I think I shall ride the rest of the way back with my – "

He stopped himself suddenly, and even in the midst of mess his head was over Misaki, some more primal part of him that resonated with the Alpha-Omega bond urged him to look towards his husband like something bad had just happened.

Even though, as far as he could see, nothing had. Munakata was only still, briefly, but with a strange frozen look in his eyes that he took a long moment to blink away.

The funny thing was, Suoh seemed just as agitated by this moment.

"… with his grace, and my nephew," Munakata finished, like nothing had happened that couldn't be dismissed by clearing his throat.

And Saruhiko thought to himself that, while he may not have wanted to request the return of the pendant just yet, there was one matter he was hoping to discuss with his husband…

 

*~*~*

 

He went to rest after they'd made their way back to Tenrou House with only the most cursory of greetings to Kisa. He wasn't under her thumb anymore, and she had nothing on him that didn't blow back just as much onto her, he cared less than nothing for what she might think of him for that.

Though he did wonder… although if it was her she'd been made to stay in the carriage, but he'd been sure that behind the translucent curtain in the carriage window above the silver-embossed Fushimi mandrill, there he'd seen a silhouette he'd been sure was Aya's.

Why had Kisa brought her to Tenrou Point?, he wondered. It was easier to decide it didn't matter.

And maybe he should have eased up on his workload after all – if only there hadn't been so much of it! – because he slept long past the reception dinner and into the next morning, when he decided he might as well skive off for the rest of the day anyway so he could prepare himself for dinner with Suoh, Misaki, and Kisa all at once.

And the spawn, he remembered, as it kicked him. Little monster. At least he wouldn't have to endure the whole grand function the Mayor had kept pestering him about.

"It wasn't the same without you, my lord," Munakata told him, when he came down to see him that afternoon. Saruhiko assumed it was a joke, and snorted.

"I'm sure the Countess was sent into flights of tears."

Munakata hummed. "I think she remained stoic, somehow. Although, your cousin missed you. Were you aware Sir Aya had come with the Countess' party?"

So he hadn't been hallucinating. He shrugged.

"Last I saw her she was just as glued to my mother's side. I don't suppose the Countess is thinking of declaring her her heir in lieu of _your_ child," he asked, something that had occurred to him before but hadn't really bothered him too much.

"It would be unprecedented if she did," said Munakata, "at least to my knowledge. The general practice would be for our heir to be declared the Marquis of Tenrou, signifying their claim on the duchy, while whoever was next in line would become heir to Westermont."

Saruhiko himself had forfeited that right by being beholden to an Alpha outside the family, but it was true he'd thought their second-in-line would become first-in-line to Westermont. But then, that assumed a second, and as their first grew bigger and bigger he had to admit he was feeling more and more nervous about how it was going to come out without ripping him open. The thought sent a chill down his spine and he squirmed again.

"Does that bother you?" Munakata asked, without amusement for once.

"No," said Saruhiko.

"But something is concerning you?"

That got his husband a contemptuous look, because obviously many things were concerning him. Kisa's presence meant trouble no matter what, as far as he was concerned. Suoh and Misaki being there by contrast gave him no sense of danger, yet still filled him with dread. He was going to have a baby, ridiculously soon.

And…

"Your absence has raised certain… difficulties I couldn't talk about by post."

Munakata frowned. "Serious difficulties?"

"No, not serious," Saruhiko replied, as though the Alpha were an idiot. "But I've looked into it. Ideally you'd be here, only you can't, so there's really no point in discussing it."

There was a pause. Munakata was sitting at the desk in their shared chambers, in the blue-velvet lined seat one of his Counts had sent as a wedding present – with lupins carved into the arms, which had always puzzled Saruhiko since _roses_ were the Midlands flower, though not enough for him to actually care. His husband brought his hands together with both index fingers extended.

"What is it you've read, regarding this?" he asked.

Having not asked what 'this' was, Saruhiko assumed he was trying to see if he could guess by whatever Saruhiko told him about the related material, and therefore avoid asking outright what was bothering him, which was less likely to get him an answer.

Saruhiko liked that about Munakata, so he obliged him.

"Kato," he said.

As expected, Munakata immediately recognised the name. He tilted his head.

"And this isn't something a physician should hear about?" he asked.

Fists clenching, Saruhiko admitted, "No."

Things were rapidly becoming awkward. He knew what he was talking about was embarrassing beyond belief, and it wasn't like it was something he could keep from Munakata, only the physician Kato was the only expert in pregnancy and childbirth that he could find that had anything to say about it, and even that was hardly anything useful.

But Munakata suddenly smiled in a vaguely predatory fashion, and with a sudden leap in his heart Saruhiko knew the other had figured it out with only that to go on.

"Ah," he said, and with that single syllable it started again.

As Kato put it in his guide, " _Many years of study have confirmed that some, particularly lewd Omegas continue to desire the knowledge of the Alpha even after being bred and sometimes long into the pregnancy. What use could they think to have for such knowledge, their wombs being filled already? Yet we have had many come to us desperate for advice on how to sate this desire, or by some drug or exercise prevent it…_ "

'Knowledge' was not exactly the term Saruhiko would have used for what he wanted; when he thought of Munakata giving him 'knowledge' he thought of the various reports, studies and others of that like that his husband had sent or recommended to him since their wedding. No, what he'd desired, with more and more frequency and particularly with this latest absence, was to be fucked long and hard like he had been on his wedding night.

These desires were like heat without the heat, the ache to be filled was there but not the rise in temperature beyond the norm and his mental state remained the same, only frustrated. And in that frustration he hissed,

"What did you expect? You can fuck any Omega you want from here to Lightningfort if that's what you wanted – some of us have rather more limited options."

With more fondness in his smile, Munakata's head dropped. Then, without warning, he stood up. Saruhiko's eyes followed him curiously from where he lay on the bed.

"My apologies," said the Alpha, drawing the curtains in front of the desk – which made little sense. He then approached Saruhiko, hand outstretched. "It's something we've never had the opportunity to discuss as we probably should have. And either way, I've been neglectful. I hope you can forgive me, my lord."

Feeling himself begin to throb between his legs; his cock nudging the fitted robe, the pleasant but unsatisfying throb at his hole where his slick began to flow, he should have protested being made to stand up – that and how difficult it was anyway in his current condition. But when Munakata appeared right in front of him like that; tall, beautiful and confident, like a king – Saruhiko couldn't help but reach out to take the hand that was offered, without even a second's hesitation.

It was, as ever it was these days, a difficult thing to stand from where he had been lying down, but Alphas were on average twice as strong at least as Omegas, and Munakata held him steady with seemingly no effort. It made Saruhiko want to trust him, and that, though dangerous, had the need to have his depths plundered burn hotter. Munakata stroked one arm lightly down his side, and as he kissed Saruhiko's forehead his hand came to rest firmly on the curve of his ass. Saruhiko sucked in a breath.

"Idiot," he muttered. "We can't do anything while I'm in this state." Much as it pained him to admit it, he nodded towards the giant bump between them, which as far as he could see made the logistics of what Munakata was offering somewhat tricky.

But Munakata smiled, Saruhiko felt it as he trailed kisses down the side of his face and beneath his ear before he said, "I don't think that that will pose a problem."

With that said he ushered Saruhiko – gently, but confidently, back towards the desk he'd been sitting at before. Moments later, Saruhiko found himself leaning forward against it, hands gripping the edges where Munakata had placed them, bent almost at a right-angle with the Alpha behind him, holding his hips.

He found it suddenly twice as difficult to breathe as before.

_He can't mean…_ he thought, mind ablaze, _to do it here and now in the middle of the day, the middle of the room!?_

There was little space but just that for him to think anything when Munakata pressed himself up behind, and Saruhiko could feel the outline of his cock against his ass. He was hard, not fully, but growing more, and that being the case Saruhiko was duty-bound to satisfy his need, even if polite society would have had to fetch the smelling salts from him doing so while he was pregnant; especially this far along.

That, of course, only made the idea more appealing.

"Alphas talk as much as anyone, especially soldiers," Munakata confided, rubbing himself against Saruhiko  slowly, sensually. "I'm sure you'd find most positions taxing in your condition, but this way it should be possible enough for me to fulfil my duties to you – so I've heard."

Saruhiko managed to snort, though his lungs hated him for it, desperate to keep airflow regular. Even so he choked out,

"You've heard? This isn't something you know from long years spent fucking pregnant Omegas against your desk, my grace?"

Munakata leant forward enough so that Saruhiko could see him smile out of the corner of his eye.

"I confess it's one area I'm not an expert in, my lord. Shall we see if we can build on our experience together?"

It was embarrassing, to think that they'd be doing this because Saruhiko all but asked for it. But he'd lost count of how many nights he'd tried to grind himself down against the mattress in vain since receiving that first fuck, searching for relief, and he'd be damned if he didn't get it now.

"You're the Alpha," he reminded his husband, with a sneer. "You can do what you want."

What Munakata wanted, apparently was to raise the fitted robe up to Saruhiko's waist, then pull his undergarments down and bare his naked flesh, which Saruhiko should have found embarrassing. Instead, he found he was resting his chest against the desk below folded arms for leverage to thrust his ass back more into the Alpha's grip. He couldn't see Munakata's face, but he had a feeling the move had pleased him.

And that also pleased Saruhiko, much as he hated to admit it. The bestial side of him longed to prove itself continuously to its mate.

Munakata ran his hands slowly up the bare skin, fingers digging in and prising the cheeks apart, so that the hole Saruhiko could feel run wetter and wetter with his eagerness was exposed to the Alpha's view. Again, Saruhiko found himself more glad it meant Munakata would have easier access, than to feel humiliated.

Both his husband's thumbs slipped further inwards, rubbing against skin already wet with slick and more sensitised than where they'd been before. Still not as sensitive as the entrance to his body itself, which is why Saruhiko promptly thrust his ass back again, demandingly.

Then Munakata surprised him, by speaking.

"My, my," he said. His voice sent shivers like electric shocks down Saruhiko's spine. "I _have_ been neglectful. It seems this part here…" he suddenly ran an index finger around the rim of Saruhiko's hole. "… is quite desperate for my attention."

Saruhiko didn't know what to say to that, only letting out a strangely high-pitched whimper.

"Shh," Munakata told him, caressing both buttocks again. "I shan't keep you waiting."

Indeed, one of his fingers entered Saruhiko without hesitation, and then a second, which was nice, but simply nowhere near big enough, even as they scissored in and out of him at a characteristically brisk pace.

"So beautiful," Munakata whispered, as though to himself.

And if he could have Saruhiko would have whipped his head right around to stare into Munakata's eyes and try and guess what was in his head when he said that. He had little presence of mind to guess, and less time before his husband added a third finger and continued –

"Look at you. Far greater than I ever could have hoped as a partner in the vast endeavours set before me; an innovator, a pragmatist, a sane and honest voice amidst so many and on top off all that," his other hand reached down to lightly stroke across Saruhiko's stomach where their child lay.

Thinking of it there was awkward for about half a second before Saruhiko decided he'd endured enough from it over the past few months that it could damn well be the one knocked about for a change.

"You have given me so much," Munakata said.

It was odd, to think of it like that. Saruhiko never had. He didn't consider himself the 'giving' type. He'd only done all this because…

"… I suppose I could also have done worse," he panted, begrudgingly. He heard a brief chuckle. "Wouldn't you have preferred your Omega a bit more… " he searched for the right word. "Gentle?"

The fingers were removed, and before he could even consider whether or not he may have done something wrong, both hands were on his hips again, and he felt the blunt head of the Alpha's wide cock against his entrance. He made a sharp intake of breath.

"Honestly?" Munakata replied. "The idea holds no attraction."

He promptly pushed forward, sliding the entire length of his cock in in a single, slow thrust.

For a long moment Saruhiko couldn't breathe, thinking it should have been far harder than it was for Munakata to do that to him. But his body accepted the Alpha with ease, and very little pain. Munakata didn't rush things, but he didn't pause either, he kept moving constantly so by the time Saruhiko had accustomed himself to the discomfort of the stretch he was already pulling out to slowly push back in again.

Saruhiko heard a desperate whine escape his lips and bit them to try and stifle it. The huge length rubbing inside him excited the inner walls more, urging them to produce more slick and as he did the sensation of being touched where he'd needed it most grew stronger; his hips jumped up instinctively against the Alpha's and any worry that his legs might give out was mitigated by the strong arms holding him below his waist.

"There you go," murmured his husband, pulling back and thrusting in smoothly once more, sliding against the pleasure spot with in him that made him feel almost like he'd come on the spot. He hadn't forgotten how he'd hardly needed his own cock touched to come back on his wedding night, and nothing would have pleased him more than not needing that to do so now. "Is that better?"

Past the point of sarcasm, which Munakata should have considered a real triumph, Saruhiko could only mumble his agreement.

"You're exquisite, my lord," said Munakata, and his pace began to increase. "So very lovely. Now I know that this pleases you outside of heat, I shall endeavour to do more to repay all you have given me."

_Yes,_ thought Saruhiko. _Yes, do it, do it all the time, whenever you want, I don't care – it feels so good!_

Munakata concentrated more on fucking him after that, and Saruhiko attempted to make each thrust go as deeply into him as he possibly could, for the first time in a long while almost forgetting the huge weight he was carrying in his ecstasy.

But he couldn't entirely; it was the words of that obstetrician that had brought them to this after all. Particularly lewd Omegas, he'd called this. Saruhiko thought of himself, bent over a desk with an Alpha's cock pounding away at his ass, slick practically drenching his thighs in order to ease the way, and him moaning, inner muscles now starting to contract every time Munakata thrust in, as if to encourage him to shoot more of his seed into his already pregnant body.

There he was, writhing away, pregnant belly shaking as he was soundly fucked and loving every second of it. By any measure of noble society he was a slut for doing this, and he even managed a grin as he thought of that, because fuck noble society – they were idiots about everything else, so of course they were idiots about this. He'd have loved to see the looks on their faces if they saw this: their beloved hero acting every bit the commoner he'd risen up from, rutting in an already sown field, and him the noble child of purest bloodline greedy for the sowing –

… what the look on Misaki's face would be…

He should have dismissed that thought as soon as it struck him, as the worst possible thing to think about during sex with his husband. And he would have done, only the thought refused to leave, and suddenly, insistently, his mind conjured up an image of the unlikely knight before his eyes, as though he was suddenly standing in the room with them.

The thick cock stretching his hole never stopped reminding him of the ownership of his body, uncontested even by Saruhiko himself, but that awful mind of his rebelled there, at his weakest point and showed him its idea of what Misaki's face might look like if he was in there.

How those already wide eyes would grow like ripples after impact on the water. He'd realised what was happening and go red as usual – _Misaki knows where babies come from, right?_ – and he'd look into Saruhiko's own eyes like he was searching for an answer, for some guidance as to what he should do in such an outrageous situation.

Then, Saruhiko imagined what would happen after the initial shock wore off, and Misaki's eyes were drawn down, and to the side, naturally attracted to the movement and lured by curiosity. He couldn't know what might go through Misaki's mind if he were to find himself in that position, focusing his gaze on the pale, smooth flesh of Saruhiko's ass; parted so he could see the hole stretched around an Alpha's cock as it was vigorously ploughed. What he'd think if he could somehow see how eagerly it gripped that cock, how the slick that was the proof of its hunger for the penetration ran down his legs, glistening.

That slick was rushing faster with every second he thought about this.

He'd even be able to hear the wet noise every thrust made, the slap of skin on skin, and next to it all the pregnant bump that proved how much Saruhiko loved to be like this, that he'd let an Alpha fill him with seed and quicken with child for him.

_Watch me, Misaki,_ that part of his mind whispered. _Watch me._

Clamping down with all his strength on Munakata's cock he jerked up and shoved his forearm between his teeth to muffle his scream as he came; back arching so much he shot right up against the Alpha with his head thrown back against Munakata's shoulder. Munakata quickly pulled him close, one arm across his chest to steady him.

He ground down against the thick member as hard as he could to wring every last instant of pleasure from it, head turning towards Munakata's neck as he writhed desperately. Munakata seemed to have no qualms in slowing immediately for him, and with a few deep thrusts he felt the added pleasure of the hot seed shooting into his body. That bestial part of him particularly liked that part; but of course he had it on good authority he was a particularly lewd Omega.

Sagging against Munakata, he began breathing long, hard breaths to try and calm himself down. Munakata tilted him even more, past where his head had been before so he could lean down and kiss his neck.

It was only then Saruhiko realised he too was breathing hard. It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd been fully in control of himself when he'd seen his husband this out of control. That easy smile was still there, but his eyes were different, less like a hunter's and almost… vulnerable.

Saruhiko had the strangest urge to reach up and stroke the side of his face. He caught himself with his hand halfway there and put it on his shoulder instead. That touch broke the strange, silent moment he suddenly realised they'd been sharing.

However he might have been affected, Munakata had no problem carrying him back over to the bed, keeping his gown bunched up around his waist to avoid any of their mess from staining it. He could feel the warmth of the load inside him as it ran down his thighs, and had to bite his lip again.

Munakata's more vulnerable look disappeared as rapidly as it had come.

"I'll run the bath for you, my lord," he murmured, and kissed the top of Saruhiko's head.

Would he have been so considerate, Saruhiko wondered, if he knew whose face he'd imagined looking at them as he'd reached orgasm?

There was a lover. Someone important enough that Munakata wanted their identity kept secret, but he'd implied before he would tell Saruhiko, if he asked. Munakata wasn't the sort to be bothered, Saruhiko told himself, if his Omega was only having _thoughts_ of others.

Only, he wasn't having thoughts of Misaki, was he? No, that would be ridiculous. Dangerous. Someone, not necessarily Munakata – in fact almost certainly not him, but his power was not absolute – someone might have thought it warranted Misaki's death, the stakes were that high.

Plus, it was _Misaki_. They could never be together, not in the way Munakata was with his lover.

Although, and Saruhiko didn't know the full story but sometimes he felt like whatever was between Munakata and said lover was no less strained for it.

They had to rely on each other, he thought, hand absently running over his stomach. They had no choice.

But maybe even if they had had the choice, they could both – as Saruhiko had said – have done worse?

Well, unless Munakata ever found out what part Saruhiko had played in his family's death anyway.

 

*~*~*

 

"Are you really going to eat that?"

It seemed the difference between Kisa's insults to him before and Kisa's insults now was that before she'd have let her eyes burn into him with something more along the lines of 'You will not eat that if you expect to be allowed at my table', rather than sipping her wine, eyed pointedly away from him and words turned around to brush passivity over their aggression.

Saruhiko glanced down as the chicken on his plate and clicked his tongue.

"I have a regimen dictated by the Emperor's physician," he said, as though it were a mark of his importance and not just really annoying. In reality it was both, but for Kisa's benefit he emphasised the former.

She put her glass down dismissively. "A notorious crackpot," she declared.

The dinner was off to a wonderful start.

There were only twelve of them, plus the servers in the room. He and Munakata sat across from each other on the long table and, with enough space between them to fit a whole other person, the others were seated down the sides. On Saruhiko's left there was an empty space for a guest running late, then the Bishop, Kisa, Aya, then the Mayor. Count Enomoto was on his immediate right, having arrived with Munakata, then Misaki, Suoh, Anna and Kai.

Poor Kai, who should never have had to endure being in such close quarters with Kisa – he didn't miss the looks sent his way, like she found it offensive to have been seated at the same table as the child. Even the fatuous oaf of a mayor managed to simply avoid looking at the kid altogether. As for Aya, they seemed to have found some camaraderie in both having to eat with only one hand.

That missing arm of hers… Saruhiko had never had the chance to ask; their letters had been few, and stilted. But it bothered him.

And Kisa wasn't wrong about old Frog-man, that was for sure, but crackpot or not he did seem to know his stuff. He wondered what experience she was basing her words on when she added,

"It is not good for an Omega to eat the flesh of animals during pregnancy."

"Well, you know best, my lady," he said dryly, putting his fork to the side since he knew she was expecting him to be obstinate instead. "We can't fault the result of your own pregnancy after all."

He wasn't really in the mood for chicken anyway. He wanted carrots, but he refused to eat them now since he knew he actually hated them, and he wasn't going to let the spawn dictate what he ate to that degree.

An accidental glance showed him Misaki's look of confusion; like he wanted to butt in on the side of justice but didn't really know where that was in these circumstances. It was to his chagrin that the person who seemed most amused by his comeback was Suoh.

"My lord and I were of course delighted that you were able to make it, Lady Fushimi," Munakata lied brazenly. "And I understand you and Lord Suoh are entering into discussions regarding another railroad, from Ashrock to Sunhigh. Has Lady Hirasaka not approached you about a line from Ironpeak to Lightningfort?"

Kisa's eyes narrowed in on him. "Has she approached you?" she asked coolly.

Munakata met that gaze with ease. "What would I have to do with a railroad that ran purely within Jungle's borders?" he asked.

This was one of the more minor uncertainties that had been brought to their attention recently; the idea of heightened communication and transport links within former rebel territory. But at the end of the day the railroad genie was out of its bottle, and networks between all the major cities were bound to be cropping up in the next few years.

Still, the fact that Kisa and Hirasaka had been trying to keep it under wraps did not bode well, and she and Munakata stared each other down until the door opened, with a guard calling out,

"Count Hidaka of Mirrors Marsh!" in introduction.

Hidaka practically threw the door open and came in walking, but obviously out of breath. Saruhiko snickered into his glass at the look on the Bishop's face when the Count casually draped his outer coat over the back of his chair before he sat down. Next to him, Enomoto cringed slightly.

"Your grace," said Hidaka, greeting Saruhiko between breaths. He then nodded to Munakata. "Captain."

"Lord Hidaka," Munakata said. "Is there any news?"

Having taken the short pause to pour some wine and swallow it noisily, Hidaka wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and nodded, every move disconcerting the old bastard next to him more than the one before.

"He made it back, but Akiyama was right – there was an ambush. More men than he expected too, his man was injured and three of ours lost their lives."

Saruhiko put his own, now empty glass back on the table, the soft clack the only noise in the room for a long moment. Suoh broke it by sighing and looking pointedly towards an inscrutable Munakata, while Kisa promptly returned to cutting her own chicken.

"How dreadful," she said, in one of the least sincere uses of the phrase that Saruhiko had ever heard.

Then again, he was only glad Munakata had had enough brains to make the switch, even if this cousin of Akiyama's had survived in the end. The thought of losing his Alpha, and the protection he was awarded through him… it turned his stomach.

"Were they connected to a specific cell?" he asked Hidaka to take his mind off it, motioning for a servant to refill his glass. Cordial rather than wine, of course, considering. The girl had to fetch another bottle from the next room.

Hidaka drained his own goblet.

"No one's come forward, but some of them had the emblem of the Children of the Dove sewn in their clothing." He turned to Munakata. "More of _them_ arrived in town ahead of your group to petition you; Sir Haeckel Daisuke wants your permission to detain them."

Haeckel was Captain of the City Guard, and somewhat overzealous.

"Denied," said Munakata, motioning to the guard at the door to deliver this message. "But inform Sir Haeckel he is to post a guard, for their safety. News of this _will_ spread."

The pointed look as good as implied it was either for their 'safety' or to spy on them, whichever came first and probably both. The guard bowed and departed.

"Is that wise?" asked Kisa, still nominally paying more attention to her plate than to her son-in-law.

Munakata made a show of returning to his, but the food never left it.

"The Children are more of a rapidly spreading idea than an organisation," Munakata said with a sigh. "With un-formalised notions of a return to a more austere theocracy. The louder voices among them often disagree with each other just as loudly – an emblem won't be enough to implicate members of the sect within the city."

"Fanatics," Kisa said, contemptuously. "One should come down hard and fast upon them. My late husband rather vulgarly referred to it as 'taking them for a spin'."

She meant on the wheel, where their limbs would be smashed by a hammer, like that boy – a lifetime ago. Not long enough that Misaki's fork didn't abruptly scrape against his plate. Certainly not for the mainly Moonfalls diners to let the casual reference slip their notice. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife, and though he didn't seem to understand what was going on – thank fuck – even Kai had stopped eating.

"Did he now?" said Munakata, absently. "Well. I fear he would not have approved of his son-in-law's methods, but I believe further suppression in the Grey Lands, especially of their religion, would only lead to further instability.

Kisa snorted. "Their 'religion'," she said. Then changed her addressee without warning. "Did I tell you, Saruhiko, what a point of consternation that was during the negotiations for your betrothal?" She glanced at Munakata. "Pardon me, your _first_ betrothal. Lord Hisui was not a particularly religious man, but such was his regard for Lord Iwafune that he wished to marry you and the Marquis in a Grey Lands ceremony."

The Bishop almost choked on his food. Saruhiko wondered if his mother had a game here, or was just enjoying making everyone as uncomfortable as possible. He was grateful when the server returned with the cordial as he was suddenly feeling very hot.

"He did have his little quirks, didn't he?" Saruhiko said icily.

"Did you protest?" asked the Bishop, when he'd sufficiently recovered.

"Of course," said Kisa. "To have such a grand marriage performed in a ceremony unapproved by the church? It would have amounted to a farce."

Misaki stood up very suddenly, seeing as anyone with eyes would how the wacky religion of his own Lord and Master was being equally insulted there, but Suoh reached out calmly, put a hand on his arm, and sat him back down without even looking at him. His golden eyes remained burning into the Countess, and though Kisa saved face enough by acting as though she didn't notice it, Saruhiko certainly noticed that she wasn't able to hold _his_ gaze.

"I don't mind a good farce once and a while," Suoh drawled, at length. The rest of the room was very quiet by now, though Munakata seemed to be enjoying himself just a little, the freak.

"Is that so?" Kisa replied, meeting his eyes briefly but quickly becoming more interested in smoothing the napkin on her lap. "How fortuitous. I know of many."

She looked at Saruhiko then, and he heard that implication loud and clear.

How _dare_ she?

"Will you not elaborate, my lady?" he hissed, picking up his glass.

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean," she said smoothly.

"No? Lord Suoh apparently likes farces, not surprising as they do generally appeal to his sort, but you seem to think I might have some bearing on that? Care to comment?"

"You're becoming hysterical," she said, and though she sounded bored he caught that glimpse of Niki's smirk in her eyes that made his heart beat irregularly.

He took a long mouthful from the glass.

"A common side-effect of your condition, so I shall ignore you. Your husband might think it better to retire you—"

Whatever she said next, he missed. As soon as that liquid touched his tongue his irregular heartbeat stopped. Cold. And did not feel the need to beat again for quite some time.

The cordial that should have been so sweet felt like it would cut him with the sharpness of how bitter it was; the pleasant tang replaced with a horrendous sour flavour and the few drops that went down his throat tasted of something familiar that had his very mind go blank.

In that second his primal self suddenly lurched forward to take over and, without the wherewithal to think of a better response, and terrified, he leaned to the side like he would faint and opened his mouth to let the foul concoction splatter onto the ground beside him.

The room went deadly quiet, and his pulse now hammered away heard enough to give him a headache. He breathed heavily and spat onto the ground again, twice, thrice, and for the next little while every time there was enough saliva in his mouth to spit he kept it up.

"Saruhiko…"

Misaki's voice, concerned and confused, washed over him, but from the other end of the room he heard Munakata's chair move across the floor, and his footsteps approached briskly until he was right in front of Saruhiko, whereupon he wasted no time picking up the glass he'd just drank from.

Saruhiko had an almost undeniable urge to knock it back out of his hand again, hand grasping onto the table as his husband dipped the corner of a napkin in it and tasted it.

He put the glass straight back down on the table.

"Call for a physician, Enomoto-kun," he said, matter-of-factly. "Hidaka-kun, I want you to make sure no one else leaves the building, and get a log-book of the comings and goings in the house. You," he pointed at the server who had poured the drink, who looked like she might wet herself, "stay right where you are."

"Munakata…" Suoh said, rising to his feet.

Munakata smiled his most bland smile.

"Someone just tried to murder my unborn child," he announced.

Unconsciously, Saruhiko found his other arm moved like lightning over his middle, as though to shield it.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 


	10. The Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - I am, officially, the worst.
> 
> But here's the next chapter anyway. Hope you all like it!
> 
> (or not ;) )

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

 

For all that the atmosphere of continued unrest that followed the end of such a brutal war and the resentment of his own and his husband's background had led to increased caution on Munakata's part in almost every facet of his life; yet this development had been unexpected.

First in that he himself was, of course, the obvious target for any well-thought assassination attempt (attempts directed at Saruhiko specifically were likely to be revenge-by-proxy for something his father had done, therefore driven by emotion, therefore unlikely to be well-thought out), rather than Saruhiko and certainly rather than the child.

Yet it could not be argued that the child, specifically, was not the target. Though it also happened that no one who had not had the chance to recognise the poison would understand that, although by now they all knew it was poison, and – crowded into their private chamber, as much as half a dozen people could 'crowd' in so large a room – Yata Misaki had certainly no qualms about pointing this out.

"Hey – don't think I didn't hear what you said in there, Munakata!" he exclaimed, the lack of any etiquette amusing to the addressed if not, by the look of it, to Hidaka. "Only saying someone was trying to kill your kid, when it was Saruhiko who was poisoned!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes at the defence.

"Misaki, there are words coming out of your mouth."

His voice was ragged from vomiting, lips black with charcoal the House physician had quickly stuffed down his throat, but since barely a drop of the concoction had preceded it the immediate fears were few.

"Saruhiko!" Yata complained.

Though Munakata welcomed any dialogue between the two as a chance for Saruhiko to gain more attachments to other people, it was no time for the two of them to argue, so he cut in swiftly.

"You are quite right, Sir Misaki, the poison was taken by my lord consort; however the purpose of that particular poison is not to kill the one who takes it, though they do often die in the aftermath."

"You know a lot about such poisons do you, my grace?" asked Saruhiko with a raised eyebrow.

Munakata smiled to put the room at ease. He doubted it worked, but Saruhiko had only been teasing anyway. Though it was true, there wasn't any particular reason for Munakata to know what he knew about the poison, yet there were a lot of things he knew that fell into that category; broad knowledge accumulated over years of reading wide varieties of books and talking to a wide variety of people. So he continued his explanation for the sake of Yata, and Suoh and Hidaka who were also in the room and likely didn't know.

And it was important that they did, for the method would speak of the motive, and the motive would speak of the perpetrator.

"This substance is an abortifacient known colloquially as 'laserwort'; meant to expel a foetus from the womb," he said. "Illegal, since improper usage does often lead to the death of the imbiber, and if a termination of a pregnancy is permitted or deemed necessary by a physician there are far safer methods."

That issue was more a barrel than a mere can of worms, of course, so it was best ignored while they concentrated on this episode.

"What do you think was meant by this?" asked Saruhiko, raising himself up on his elbow as the House doctor tried to urge him down.

Munakata met the determined look in his eyes.

"Please do try to rest, my lord. I'm afraid for now my theory will be contingent on an unknown factor – that being if the poisoner was well-versed in the usage of the drug or not. One might surmise that he must have been, being intelligent enough to have it brought in at all, but one must never be too surprised when the cleverest people do the stupidest things," ("Hear, hear," muttered Suoh, with a smirk), " – like utilise a drug they're only familiar with in passing."

Though he tried, as always, not to react to Suoh, Munakata couldn't help but let a smirk of his own develop.

"I'm quite sure I don't know what that means, your grace. One must not be too surprised when the stupidest people do the stupidest things either."

Suoh snorted.

"At any rate," Munakata continued, "what we have here is an important question: did the poisoner intend only to scare us with this move, or did he want the drug to do its work, not realising that this far along the child would have had a good chance of surviving an early labour even if my lord _had_ taken enough of the substance to induce it?"

"Only to scare us?" Saruhiko asked pointedly.

It was hard not to grin, realising that his husband had seen exactly what he had in regards to this matter. But with so many variables…

He noticed Hidaka looking from one of them to the other, as realisation slowly dawned on him too.

"You mean…" he began slowly, "this may be some convoluted way of getting something else? Like making you take guards off one thing to protect his grace and leaving that unprotected, or something?"

"Precisely," Munakata confirmed. "Which means our response to this must be very guarded indeed. Whatever his motive might be I think we can say for sure that by his choice of target the poisoner is quite the brutal sadist, and from the look of things, intelligent."

After all, if he'd wanted Munakata to implement some kind of security measures that would open some other part of his plan up, he could have done so by an attack on anybody, but had chosen his unborn child. Unless –

"Not necessarily," said Saruhiko, even as the thought occurred to him, and with a slight frown like he was surprised it hadn't already – and why hadn't it? Well, it was immaterial for now. "They might have needed to make sure it was seen as an assassination attempt without actually making it fatal, so couldn't have chosen a regular poison because we would have known either way otherwise – something non-fatal would have obviously only been meant to scare us, whereas something fatal... Well, I imagine there are other explanations."

"Perhaps," Munakata said, "though I must say I think it unlikely that there's much this move might achieve that couldn't have been done some other way by a clever enough person."

He'd told himself he'd have to face that facts that his enemies might come after those close to him in a bid to hurt him or his legacy. And therefore, he told himself, he would have to come to terms with the fact that – yet again – they might succeed, and for the sake of both the duchy and the nation he would have to persevere no matter what.

Saruhiko, the child, Kai, Suoh; his loyal counts and fellow provincial head and friend Awashima… there were no guarantees in life even if he did as much as he possibly could do. He could lose every single one of them, though the chance was unlikely.

But in his position, he couldn't afford to let something like that get to him. He wouldn't. He hadn't before, so it should have been easy enough to keep any affections he may have had untwined from what was necessary for him to lead and function.

And it had been.

Easy.

"Munakata?"

Easy, but for the slightest unnerving feeling like he was forgetting something he'd needed to bring with him, somewhere important.

"Hey."

Suoh tapped his shoulder lightly with the back of his hand. He registered that the other duke had also called his name and blinked away morbid thoughts. The chances of any of those things happening were low enough as long as he kept his wits about him, of course.

"Hm? Don't tell me you have something useful to add, Suoh. I might just have to join my lord in lying down."

Suoh didn't respond to that with his usual smirk, rolling his eyes instead.

"Whatever. Assume anyway that the poison is supposed to scare you, not to kill. What would you do about this attempt that might help out some guy who'd poison your kid?"

Munakata thought carefully.

The obvious answer that came to him had nothing to do with his leaving something else vulnerable by increasing security around Saruhiko, since no one could have known where that extra security might have come from. And merely trying to 'set him on edge' as it were, was something an intelligent attacker had to realise there was no guarantee of.

But…

"I've ordered a thorough search of the entire complex," he said. "And I imagine we shall have to take what we find with a grain of salt."

"You mean the poisoner's goal might be to try and frame someone else for this," said Saruhiko, "and with the target being what it was, trust that you'll be so overcome with sentiment that you'll all but have that person executed on the spot?"

"Something along those lines," agreed Munakata.

His husband clicks his tongue.

"You mean we're going to have to find someone in the building that someone else hates enough to go to such lengths to frame?" He lay back against the bed. "Wonderful. Easy as finding a needle in a stack of needles."

"Your grace, the household staff and courtiers are undoubtedly loyal, whatever other faults they have!" protested Hidaka. "I don't think any of them capable of it!"

"Don't you?" Saruhiko sneered.

Hidaka looked taken aback, but thought quickly and held his ground.

"It could just as easily have been an outsider!"

Thought quickly, but not entirely 'well'. Munakata winced slightly, even before Yata Misaki bellowed out –

"An outsider, huh!? You'd better not be saying Lord Mikoto or anyone else from Homra would do something like try to poison a baby, whoever you are!"

Diplomatically, Munakata suggested, "I'm sure Count Hidaka was referring to an _uninvited_ guest. The Children of the Dove have already been brought up several times by my men."

… which was not to say no one could have infiltrated Suoh's ranks either; he'd brought two dozen men as escort other than Yata Misaki, and though a feeling Munakata despaired to think might be 'instinct' told him to trust Suoh's judgement as well as the man himself, he had to weigh that against the severe lapses in judgement he'd already seen from the man over the years.

"The timing of their arrival is suspicious," Hidaka agreed, though from the look on his face he _had_ been counting the Homra delegation as possible perpetrators.

And Munakata did not think prominent voices in the Dove movement would have had the skill or inclination to commit this act. The fundamentals of the Grey Lands religion did not prohibit violence. Killing an unborn child, however, was another matter, and as far as he could tell there was no contention whatsoever about that.

Which was not to say their followers would never do it, but that he severely doubted the group that had come to Tenrou Point recently would be a part of it.

"What about Jungle?" asked Yata, tearing his glare away from Hidaka to turn it on Munakata. "Hirasaka's shifty enough if you ask me."

"Well, she is capable," said Munakata carefully. It was not, after all, Hirasaka's good character that had made her the appropriate choice for Jungle's chief citizen. "But I see little profit in it for her. I have been instrumental in the consolidation of her power, and an attack on my…"

What was that word?

"… on my household would bring the wrath of the loyalist regions down on her head – an attack she could not stand by any means."

"What if it was a loyalist region's doing though?" asked Saruhiko – the darkness in his voice appropriate since this was perhaps the worst possible conclusion to draw.

Yata frowned. "What!? Homra would never do something like that, why would any of the others?"

"The old man can't be that mad at you, Munakata," Suoh said dryly.

That Kokujoji would have done a thing like this was laughable, so Munakata laughed.

"No. But contrary to legend His Excellency is beginning to feel his age, and there are elements within his court who hold no special affection for me."

A memory.

_" – attack wasn't at Four Sceptres, it was at Tenrou Point – "_

Followed by a dismissal of that memory.

"That wasn't who I meant," said Saruhiko.

Munakata had known that too. He sighed.

"It would not have escaped Count Zenjou's notice if their graces had plotted such a thing," he announced. "And he would not have allowed it to happen."

Suoh turned towards him with narrowed eyes. "You mean the Minato twins? Don't tell me they've been giving you trouble."

"I would not have called it trouble, your grace, but certainly they have not made it a secret that they disapprove of my… advancement. Their family has some claim on Moonfalls itself, after all."

"And if they'd been in charge of it the winter would have seen either mass starvation, or the same catastrophic debt they've now gotten themselves into with Kokujoji," said Saruhiko. Then he smirked. "Fortunately for us the Homra negotiators weren't bright enough to screw us over."

"Saruhiko!" snapped Yata. Then, "… Lord Fushimi."

"Sir Misaki," Saruhiko returned the formal greeting, with a mock bow that then sent a sudden spasm of pain down his back – likely from the pregnancy, not the poison, and he hissed and finally lay down.

This time Yata cried "Saruhiko!" with more concern than admonishment.

Munakata watched him take a step towards the Omega, then stop, like there was a rope tied around his waist pulling him back.

"Your grace!" Hidaka also exclaimed.

For his part Munakata showed no outward sign of having noticed the twinge; yet notice he did, and felt from his bond the slightest panic he quickly dismissed as irrational. At the same time, he recognised that the conversation had gone on far longer than necessary, considering the circumstances.

His uncommon sense had been proven right time and again in its insistence that he encourage his husband to exercise his considerable intellect in the face of any challenge that came their way, but Saruhiko's physical well-being was also his responsibility, and –

"Forgive me, my lord, after such an ordeal you needs must rest at least until the morning. We cannot expect to narrow down so many possibilities in the course of a single night."

They could, having the resources they had, as Munakata believed he could have on his own by deduction if given enough time and space. Even though none of the so far proposed assailants had seemed more than merely 'possible' to him.

But Saruhiko still needed to rest. He groaned, in pain and no doubt in exasperation at the concern, and at the implied order.

"Hidaka-kun will remain to guard you," Munakata added. Then, on a whim, "and Sir Misaki too, if his grace doesn't mind. He is a valiant combatant, there would be few my husband would be safer with."

Suoh gave him a look there, the same disapproval he always gave when he felt Munakata was, as he would put it, 'messing with his people', though what he thought Munakata's motives were in that the younger duke certainly couldn't say.

Those motives were quite innocent and simple, after all.

Yata Misaki, for his part, was at first taken aback, looking around wildly as though he expected someone to tell him Munakata was making fun of him. Then he drew himself up, and trying for confidence declared,

"Of course I'll stay here and watch Saruhiko! I would have done that anyway even if you hadn't said so."

"Oh, would you, Sir Misaki?" asked Saruhiko, dryly.

Yata was able to meet his eyes without so much trouble.

"Nothing in the world could have dragged me away," he said.

"Nothing, Misaki?"

Saruhiko's eyes slid pointedly over to Suoh, but Yata didn't seem to get the meaning of the gesture, blinking in confusion. So Saruhiko sighed and rested back again.

"I don't want either of them here. If this is anything like the last time that woman poured laserwort down my throat then I'm not going to want company for it."

Yes, Munakata had assumed. Regardless –

"You _do_ want them here," he countered. "They are both eminently trustworthy and most devoted to your safety, and you hold them in highest esteem."

"I do, do I?"

"Naturally."

Had he been planning to say anything further he would have been cut off by Yata's blunt, "Wait, what? What do you mean 'the last time'?!"

That bluntness was, in these circumstances, somehow almost admirable beneath the thicker layers of impropriety. Munakata should have hated it, passively retorted with icy coldness at hearing such a question asked of his husband and Omega.

But he didn't. For one thing he knew Yata had asked the question purely out of surprise and concern. For another he had the feeling Saruhiko had been hoping to elicit such a response by saying what he had. Finally, he had no wish to become an obstacle to what, at least on an emotional level, he would have liked to see become a stronger relationship for his mate. Saruhiko had difficulty enough forming them.

"I assume," he said politely, "My lord is referring to the western practice in which parents compel still-pure bearer children take laserwort so that they know how unpleasant the experience will be if they were ever actually to become pregnant out of wedlock and require an abortion to protect their reputation. Such a measure I presume the Countess would find sensible."

It was true that some parents, and not only in the west, did force their children to imbibe so they could experience the few days of fever, cramps and bleeding the drug induced; as a warning. However, Munakata was of the opinion the Countess had been prompted to provide this warning by a very specific incident, and not as a matter of practice.

"You don't think it was sensible, my grace?" asked Saruhiko, smirking.

"No. But the experience did allow you to immediately identify the poison, so I suppose we must be grateful to your lady mother all the same."

Well, they'd say they were anyway.

"Fucking hell," Suoh muttered behind him, rubbing his forehead. "I am about this close to – "

"And on that note," Munakata said hastily, "his grace and I shall reconvene in the map room to wait for Count Enomoto to present his findings."

Suoh rolled his eyes.

"I need a cigarette," he said.

"No you don’t," Munakata told him. "And you will not smoke in this house." Saruhiko disliked the smell and was already feeling sick. He turned to him, approached, leant down and kissed the top of his head. "Get some rest, my lord."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "If I survive the night will I see you in the morning?" he asked dryly.

Munakata considered his schedule.

"Hm. If you don't mind resting on the couch in the main hall while I hear petitions, it may be best for you to remain at my side as much as possible, and I will be here tomorrow morning assuming nothing else happens. So I'll see you then."

"Sounds thrilling."

"Goodnight, my lord," Munakata said with a smile

He stroked a lock of hair away from the Omega's sweat-blushed face behind his ear, and though his Alpha instinct urged him – with more strength than he'd felt yet – to remain at the young man's side and chase everyone else away, he tore himself towards the door with a flick of his wrist to beckon Suoh along.

"Count Hidaka, Sir Misaki," he said, in acknowledgement of the other two.

"Your grace," said Hidaka.

Yata more begrudgingly echoed "Your grace," a moment later.

Suoh simply gave his own knight a nod, and perhaps that was a smirk he flashed at Saruhiko as he followed Munakata out the door.

The guards followed at the usual distance. Four instead of two.

Suoh sighed.

"Well, this sure has gone to shit fast," he commented.

"I can't think what you mean," Munakata said lightly. "It's been a whole day since you arrived. I was almost worried nothing was going to happen."

"Hn," said Suoh; like he was amused despite himself. "I can't believe you still call that kid 'my lord', you know."

"I can't believe you don't. On a more serious note, I suppose I should ask if you have any theories regarding this."

Suoh shrugged.

"Someone poisoned your mate."

"Yes, we had established that part. But it's gratifying that that at least penetrated your thick skull."

"Don't knock the thick skull, Munakata," Suoh told him. "It's come handy enough in a fight before."

Munakata felt the corners of his lips pull upwards. "Mm, and with such a weapon at my disposal whoever this enemy is will surely have no chance."

"Oh, I'm at your disposal, am I?"

"Naturally. For your knight's sake if not for my security."

The instinct he had that Suoh would indeed be at his disposal for the sake of his security was still unusually uncertain, and subsequently he tried not to think about it. Meanwhile, Suoh took on a very different expression at the mention of his knight.

"I've told you before not to screw around with Yata, Aeronaut. I don't know if some part of you is jealous over your Omega or if he's just the type you like picking on, but it's getting on my nerves."

"If I was jealous, do you think I'd have asked him to stay with my husband?" Munakata asked, lowering his voice in a way Suoh hadn't (typical) to avoid the guards behind them hearing. "Saruhiko needs to form positive relationships outside of myself, you know, so your fears that I am 'picking' on your man are quite unfounded."

Well, maybe not _entirely_. But that was just for fun.

They turned the corridor towards the map room and Suoh gave him one of his less friendly smiles.

"They can handle themselves," Suoh declared. "Don't think I won't kick your ass for interfering just because you're a duke now."

Noticing the twitch in the guards behind him as Suoh made that promise, Munakata was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes, because of course Suoh wouldn't have thought of that nor cared even if he had.

"Such a brute," he sighed, shaking his head. "Still, we can only be glad your combat skills count as at least one redeeming feature." He grinned. "Even if they don't match up to mine. The three of you can wait at the end of the corridor for Count Enomoto's arrival. You, go and make sure he's on his way."

The guards he'd dismissed hesitated – but for the one of them sent off for Enomoto, and Munakata guessed that despite his assurance they were worried about leaving him alone with Suoh. But they acquiesced without comment a moment later.

He ushered Suoh inside. The room would have been not entirely unfamiliar to him; the large table in the centre covered with the same great map of the continent that had served them well at Four Sceptres, made in finest Westermont steel many years before the war and engraved by a consortium of steel-smiths and cartographers to show the fine lines of roads and borders, and mouldings of mountains, sunken rivers and lakes. Copper insets in stars, circles and squares marked out the cities, towns and villages with consummate accuracy.

With the various mixes of coloured wax dripped into the lines to show battle-fronts and troop movements removed, the smell of candles lingered nonetheless where new waxy cables lay over to simulate the rail network, simple though it was for now, including the proposed lines in different colours to the existing.

Munakata was fortunate to be knocked against a clear area when Suoh shoved him against it and kissed him. It was quite unexpected.

Though nowhere near as unwelcome as it should have been. The kiss was harsh, possessive, hands constricting his head and hair – the intensity caught him off guard and he grabbed onto the other Alpha's shoulders, deciding in a moment to wait and see where Suoh was going with this before he formulated a counter-move.

Suoh leaned him back further, he had to put one hand on the table to stop himself from being lain down completely – goodness knew how that would mess up the carefully-prepared facsimiles of tracks – until eventually the other man broke off for air.

"You're an idiot," he murmured breathlessly.

Then he kissed him again before Munakata had a chance to reply. Well, it was one way to get the last word in, or would have been if Munakata hadn't pulled himself further back to make his retort.

"And idiocy excites you, I see," he said. His heart was suddenly beating faster, and his efforts to calm it were not meeting with early success – and in such inappropriate circumstances, with the ache in his hips from the earlier coupling with his husband still lingering. He rolled his eyes at himself as well as Suoh. "That explains so much."

There was only so far he could lean back though, and Suoh had no qualms about chasing forward for him, claiming his lips again with a brief, "Shut up," then firmly planting his legs on either side of Munakata's – straddling him, and sliding part-way into his lap.

He broke off again a moment later.

"You idiot. You absolute idiot." He kissed him again. "What did you have to go and taste that poison for, huh? What if it had been something that killed with just a drop? You fucking moron."

He kissed him again and again. Munakata let him; guessing that while he had nowhere near the love for him he'd had for Totsuka Tatara – which was only natural, of course – the association of potentially losing a lover must have affected him deeply enough to need this, and Munakata could not begrudge him even if the environment was inappropriate.

But then Suoh's critique changed direction, starting with a brief jab at the side of his head with the palm of Suoh's hand, shifting his glasses.

"Ow," he said, though more in surprise than pain.

Swiftly enough Suoh had his head captured again, lips feeling like they were bruising his.

"Fucking moron," Suoh hissed at him. Then kissed the side of his face, his cheek, his jaw where it met his ear. "What if Fushimi or the kid had died, huh? Or both? Then what would you have done?"

What?

"I don't understand," Munakata said – words that so seldom left his mouth. "Do you think I should have been more careful in seeing what he was given to eat? I'll admit with hindsight one could say that, but poison is so rare an occurrence these days – "

Suoh slapped the side of his head again.

"No – for fuck's sake. That's not what I'm fucking talking about, idiot. Fuck, they could have died and you're acting like nothing's happened."

"Oh yes, that's why I sent my men out to search every inch of the grounds and log the details of – "

"I'm not talking about that!" Suoh snapped, and since his voice was as loud and vehement there as Munakata could remember hearing it he stopped, blinked, and tried to look past the normal way he perceived Suoh Mikoto to see what the other man might have been talking about in that moment.

And it was almost like a part of him recognised where this discussion might be heading, because he suddenly found himself frightened, only he wasn't quite sure of what.

"Look at you," Suoh said again, dark and low. The room seemed unnaturally still and quiet outside of the two of them. There was contempt and pity in Suoh's eyes, and something else – the something which was more frightening that the rest. "As a duke you've done everything you should; but as an Alpha – as a man, you're barely reacting. And I see you when you get close to really feeling it, when those brakes come down and you change the subject. It's really starting to piss me off, Munakata, and you know you don't want to see me when I'm angry."

"Seeing you on the best of days – "

The hand in his hair tightened: Suoh did not want to play that game. "You didn't even glance at your nephew when you had him taken out of the room, let alone make sure he was all right!"

What.

He frowned. "Kai didn't go anywhere near that bottle or its contents."

"Someone tried to kill his unborn cousin!" Suoh snapped, right into his ear. "Even a single word from you that things would be all right – "

Now the man was critiquing his child-rearing skills?

"He has Satou – "

"Satou's an attendant, not his guardian!"

Munakata had no idea what he was talking about.

Or rather he did, but refused to acknowledge it. And he was aware of this refusal, and ignored the awareness too.

So what he said, even though he knew it was a mistake, was: "You need to calm down."

Suoh slammed his hand down against the table so hard it had to have hurt him, and Munakata couldn't help but flinch. Suoh paused to take a deep breath.

"You need to stop being calm," he said. "Even just for a moment. Because I can't swoop down onto the ledge and push you back from it when the ledge is inside your head, you _moron_."

The ledge?

He remembered the parapet where Totsuka Tatara had died, and the chasms of fire on either side as he'd faced Suoh at his lowest point. But he refused to admit why it came to mind just then, because what he'd done had been his duty, while to rescue him – not that there was anything to rescue him from – was no duty of Suoh's. It didn't mean anything.

Even as his heart raced harder than before, and Suoh's closeness became altogether too close, something he couldn't escape from – something as dangerous as he'd always feared it would be.

Then, mercifully, he heard the sound of running footsteps, and Enomoto's voice outside the door calling the guards to step aside.

It was odd how like Saruhiko Suoh seemed just then, as he clicked his tongue, scowled, and pulled himself off Munakata's lap to stand closer to the window. Munakata was fortunate that Enomoto bothered to knock before he burst in, it provided a distraction from a dazed state it would have done no good for him to let one of his subordinates see him in.

He stood up and brushed his coat down.

"Come in."

Enomoto didn't beat around the bush, nor did the uncharacteristically frantic demeanour he presented as he flung the door open, hair coming out of his ponytail, lend the impression of someone who would have.

"Your grace!" he cried.

With a hasty bow he brandished a silver case Munakata had only a moment to recognise as a similar design and make to the container of 'white ointment' he'd confiscated from Saruhiko on their wedding night.

He knew at once where this was headed.

"We found another container of the laserwort, and a second bottle of the cordial – presumably in case the first was lost or damaged."

Other guards were poised at the door. Munakata felt his heart begin to sink.

"Is that so?" he asked.

Enomoto seemed somewhat taken aback at the tone of voice, as though it were Enomoto he were questioning and not the evidence, but he persevered, though what he had to say was awkward.

"Your grace, they were in amongst the Countess Fushimi's belongings."

As expected.

"Ah," he said, and looked towards Suoh; whose glare was hard and sharp and had Munakata wondering what of many reasons was making it that way. "That is unfortunate."

A myriad of possibilities spread out like the branches of a tree inside his mind, and quickly as he could he followed the branch this silver case beckoned him down.

He did not like the conclusion he reached.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

_He dreamed not of the coldness in the air of a room that hadn't even been cold – roaring fireplace in the centre of one wall, nor of That Man's hand holding his own like manacles as the knife he hadn't been able to see had ripped his coat, waistcoat and shirt right down the back without drawing even the tiniest drop of blood from the skin below._

_Nor did he dream of the hated voice commenting on what they found beneath; the frailty, the weakness, how such lofty aspirations as aeronautic engineering had clearly been too much for his poor Omega's mind to handle, how he could have been such a good bride to his fiancé, if only he'd accept it was his purpose. Words calculated to sting, words he'd known That Man hadn't really believed, words that had somehow found their mark anyway because they always did._

_Because maybe even then some part of him had hoped to be appreciated._

_He dreamt not of the whispered, "I would," calculated just as coldly to shock the gaping yes-men sat around the table, nor of the moment he'd felt bare surprise in the man behind him as he'd realised, as they'd both realised, that no one was doing anything to stop him. That no one would do anything to stop him, even if he had. Those few moments he knew the man was actually considering seeing if he could get away with it, just because._

_The crash of the door thrown open and his mother's cold reprimand to her husband._

_"His worth is in his modesty, as well as in our money."_

_The foul concoction poured down his throat just in case; same one as he'd almost just imbibed again, as if That Man could have impregnated him with words alone. He supposed Kisa was right to consider that Niki might have already done something along those lines and kept it secret from her; she knew him well enough, after all._

_The two-day stomach-cramps and fever that had followed._

_And finally, though everyone involved had been sworn to silence, coming out of that to find the story had spread throughout the continent like all Niki's other wild fires, only in the stories things had got so much more out of hand._

_And he supposed it was a more interesting story; the idea that he'd been fucked in public by his own father. And that every officer in the room had taken their turn with him after that, as some versions had it._

_Kisa had called him to her side once he'd recovered, a full two-minute check to make sure he wasn't going to do anything to ruin the plans she'd had for him and then dismissal, and that is what he dreamt of then._

_They'd been rounding the corner of the rampart that ran along the inner wall at Ironpeak, and just as Kisa had said, "Very well. As long as you understand that even what little did occur cannot be confirmed on our part for the sake of your reputation, you may go," a violet stream of silk had fluttered out in front of him in the early spring wind._

_When the banner had dropped and he could see the courtyard he'd stilled, interrupted in whatever bored reply he'd have given by the sight that had awaited him._

_Beneath the shuttered window of the central dark-stone tower, there'd been a female soldier dangling from the end of a noose._

_It was hardly uncommon for Niki to execute his own soldiers every now and again, for a variety of reasons. But they were supposed to be hung from the outer wall, as a warning, not from the tower closest to the mountain – not that that tower had not had corpses hanged from it before, even if the fate had been self-inflicted as over the centuries it had been the site for at least a dozen suicides._

_What's more had been that after a few seconds staring, Saruhiko had recognised this soldier. She'd been so tall, even for an Alpha, that he hadn't missed her slip quietly out the back door the night Niki had started playing his game in front of all those worthless, peeping generals. Nor had he missed her return, alongside his mother when she'd finally shown up to stop it._

_"That… that soldier," he'd said, taking another step towards her, hands resting on the rampart wall for balance._

_Kisa had been waiting for his acknowledgement of her dismissal, and turned her head in the direction he'd been looking, the bloated, black-veined spectacle, just as a crow had landed on the corpse's shoulder. The countess' brow had raised._

_"Hanged herself the first night after the incident," she'd said with a shrug. "And we haven't had the men to spare to bring her down without making a mess of the courtyard, the foolish woman. After your father asked to see her and even gave her a reward for her action."_

_And knowing him, the knowledge that her life would be a living hell from then on in no uncertain terms._

_"What?" he'd said, flinching within himself, yet again still shocked somehow at living nightmares like this. "Why did you let that happen?"_

_"Who am I to refuse my lord consort's request?" Kisa had asked him._

_He'd stared again, deep into the milk-white unseeing eyes just as the crow had gone for them. What colour had they been before? He'd had no recollection. All he could remember about her was that she'd been tall._

_"Who was she?" he'd asked._

_His mother had turned her back._

_"How should I know?" she'd said, exasperated. "She was no one. Be grateful you are not."_

_In the real world, that was how things had been left._

_But in the dream, Saruhiko stared longer at the swaying, nameless no one who'd saved him from Gods knew what._

_He stared at her dead body until the air around her began to spark, and in a flash she caught fire over more than half her cold and lifeless body, and the crow on her shoulder didn't move, but turned to Saruhiko and spoke –_

_"Yes my lord, you're not no one, you're the greatest mind the land has ever seen – a small world, though it may be! Too small for another to crawl out of your shell; bones snapping, vessels tearing – drug or not the only thing you bring forth is death, and that one too will die from your poison sooner than your enemies'! All hail Lord Fushimi, the Imperial Consort of the nation, mother of death! All hail, and be grateful if his poison doesn't burn you too! Ahahahahahahaha!"_

_The fire spread from there, inside his body and without. The funny thing was, he knew there was a way to stop that fire, but he just couldn't quite…_

 

*~*~*

 

He woke up.

"Misaki?"

In the far corner of the room the door closed, and he caught a brief sound of footsteps running outside before the light from the corridor was blocked. This did not seem a promising occurrence, and he sat up.

His vision swam. A noise of distress escaped him.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't try to get up!"

Misaki's voice. A second later and Misaki was there at his side, illuminated by only a few candles spread around the room Saruhiko nonetheless felt he'd have known him in pitch blackness.

"Misaki."

"Shh. Let me get you some water."

Hesitant as Saruhiko was to accept drinks from anyone at the moment, his mouth tasted awful and he was quite sure _Misaki_ wasn't the poisoner. Although that would have been a turn-up.

He let the other youth prop his pillows up so he could sit up enough to drink then accepted the cup he was offered, finding himself recalling with some amusement the last time they'd been in this position; with Misaki ordered by one of the upper-house servants to be dogsbody to the nurses during one of Saruhiko's illnesses.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Glancing at the clock, Misaki answered, "Midnight, almost."

He hadn't been asleep long then.

"Hidaka?"

"He's gone to see what's going on outside, but I think that duke might have found something."

Saruhiko noticed Misaki's fists were clenched, twitching like he wanted to race out to find the culprit himself and pummel them into submission. He smiled and sipped his water, sweet-seeming while his mouth was still so sour.

"I'm sure he has."

Once more he tested what sitting up would bring and was far more able this time to bear the change in orientation; his head clearing within moments. A decision was made quickly. He spat the water out into a bowl at the side of the bed.

"But let's find out for ourselves."

"Eh?"

With a deep breath, Saruhiko pulled the covers off his body and slid his legs over the side of the bed.

"Get me that dressing gown, Misaki."

"Eh!? But you can't go anywhere like this! Someone tried to poison you – "

Misaki said, even as he hurried to take the gown off the hook on the far-right post of the four-poster bed.

" – and a few hours ago you were throwing up charcoal!"

"Because the doctor made me eat it so that I would throw up any poison," Saruhiko said, rolling his eyes. The gown was cornflower-blue silk with slightly darker embroidery, quilted and stuffed with down for warmth. "Of which I barely took a drop in the first place; not enough to do any harm. The only reason I'm not at my best now is that I still have this annoying kid inside me, weighing me down."

If Misaki had been planning on objecting; either to Saruhiko heaving himself up onto two feet, or to him calling the precious little darling 'annoying', his protests were cut off by the sound of a pistol shot outside the door.

BANG.

Both youths turned their heads towards the direction of the noise. Misaki's eyes widened and a beat later he was at Saruhiko's side, pulling on his wrist.

"Get down!" he hissed.

He yanked Saruhiko so harshly that in his weakened state he dropped to his knees, almost toppling over Misaki with his other hand clutched unconsciously around his stomach. Misaki didn't stop there or apologise, pushing Saruhiko's head down so he was in an extremely uncomfortable hunched crouch, as he looked towards the door.

All this, and yet Saruhiko was not exactly scared – not yet. The shot had come from too far off, and then…

Someone yelled very loudly. Saruhiko thought it sounded familiar but Misaki had to spell it out for him.

"Lord Mikoto!" he exclaimed, raising his head up.

More shouts followed, including one that sounded like Hidaka and, faintly, a woman's voice; filled with rage. Misaki's hands clenched again; indecision springing to his face as he looked from the door, to Saruhiko, then back again with his breath beginning to come in short, sharp bursts.

Saruhiko sighed.

"Go," he told him.

"What?" Misaki's head whipped back to stare at him.

"Go," he repeated, with more emphasis.

They might have had an argument there, except Misaki was probably not thinking rationally, or even as rationally as Misaki ever got, and to be fair to him Saruhiko wouldn't have said he was especially the other way. For whatever that was worth.

This time permission from him – and really, it made more sense for him to see what was happening rather than stay with him and do nothing – clinched the matter, and with a nod Misaki raced off towards the door.

Whatever he saw when he'd opened it had him out of sight in seconds.

As Saruhiko had hoped, this gave him the space to follow. He crawled; not wanting to get his head blown off if any stray musket-balls came barrelling through the walls, towards the open doorway – and in time to hear Misaki cry from just a short way down the corridor towards the south –

"You… _you_ were the one who poisoned Saruhiko!?"

And since the door was open, he heard the response as well.

"Fools. All of you. Tell your fickle slave to stand aside for my men, Suoh, otherwise I shall revisit the matter of his contract to my family."

Kisa.

_Kisa_ had tried to poison him?

Well, it was true enough it had been her to give him the drug the last time he'd taken it, but somehow he felt there was more going on here this time.

Not that now was the time to be going over that.

"Now, now, Lady Fushimi – we both know that would bring more trouble than it's worth."

And there was Munakata. Funny, right now his voice wasn't the comfort it usually was, probably because Saruhiko couldn't _see_ him, couldn't know that whatever was happening outside his room, his Alpha was in a safe enough position to escape unscathed – for all he knew, even if he doubted it, that woman had guns pointed at the heads of every one of them!

He inched closer to the open doorway, but another cramp dissuaded him from going further – and a good thing too. What if a sudden appearance by him distracted the wrong person at the wrong time? It was hardly as if their mother-son bond could have had Saruhiko persuade Kisa to disarm. In fact, it was almost laughable.

So he grit his teeth and stayed hunched by the doorway, finally afraid; for an Alpha was security, and if anything happened to Reisi...

"You will regret this, Munakata," said Kisa, icily as always. "Whatever you hoped to achieve by it, you have made a serious error. If you think your family has already suffered the worst it possibly could have from mine, then you should have remembered the fates of other enemies of ours whose lines have no members left for fatuous thoughts."

Ah, so _she_ thought, or wanted others to think she thought, that Munakata had been the poisoner. But Saruhiko simply didn't entertain the possibility, and didn't even bother to think of why he didn't.

"You… you heartless witch!" cried Hidaka.

"Hidaka-kun."

"Captain, she threatened – !"

"I heard her. My Lady Mother is distraught, of course. One might say she was becoming hysterical, and so we shall ignore her."

"You speck of common garbage - !"

"Don't think it for a moment!"

Saruhiko jerked and almost went for the doorway again when he heard the voice whose sudden shout had levelled silence on the entire scene outside at least as far as Saruhiko could hear; and he was thankful for it, it gave him a moment to come to terms with whose voice it was.

"Aya, go back to your quarters, you're useless here."

"My quarters, my lady?" Saruhiko heard his cousin spit, and with an undercurrent like something had finally snapped within her, her usual cutsey way of speaking utterly discarded. "Not out to the carriage for a hasty escape? Or did you plan to leave me here as hostage as a gesture of goodwill? As if you cared anything more for your niece than you do for your son and unborn grandchild!"

Saruhiko's heart skipped a beat, even before he heard his husband ask gently,

"Sir Aya, please put the gun down."

"No can-do, cousin of mine!" Aya's voice came out even shakier than before. "She's crossed the line this time!"

"Foolish girl. You cannot possibly believe – "

"Can't I!?" Aya gave a desperate laugh and Saruhiko saw this going very badly, fast. "Did you think I lost my ears along with my arm? Hah! Have no doubts, gentlemen, the Lady before you is more than up to perform the deadly deed. How many times have I heard you plotting, my lady, over the past months, about what you'd do when your dear son-in-law was out of the way? 'A pity Saruhiko's value will decrease, but unavoidable', is that not what you said!?"

"Aya…"

Misaki that time, and like he too could see something terrible about to take place.

"They all think you're too cold to care about what happened to that monster; but I know you'd do worse than this for him: I know, and Saruhiko knows too, so don't try to play it off otherwise! Weren't you going to kill Kushina Anna when you thought he might marry Suoh to get their child on the ducal seat instead of her? Oh yes, Suoh, you can ask Saruhiko if you don't believe me. There's nothing you can put past her! What was the matter, my lady, did you not think anyone would dare assault your noble belongings with a search!?"

"Enough of this stupidity, girl, your punishment for this is grave enough alread – "

"No, enough of you!"

He heard a gun cock; one of the new models with the revolving chamber – Count Doumyoji had been showing him the last time he…

He…

He couldn't let this happen. He didn't give a shit what might happen to the Countess, but if Aya was tried for her murder, or if the guards his mother had with her returned fire…

"Aya!" he called out into the corridor.

Everything went still again.

It was almost an embarrassing feeling, knowing everyone was listening. He took a deep breath.

"Aya, I imagine it's close quarters down there. Can you keep an eye on every arm in the room when the bullets fly? Because I'd rather not be poisoned and shot on the same night."

Aya neither answered him, nor was there silence, but what must have happened was that he'd distracted her, and Hidaka must have been close enough because he heard a grunt of exertion from him, a cry of surprise from Aya, and then the sound of a small pistol clattering on the floor and Aya crying,

"No!"

Later, Saruhiko would be given to understand the subsequent surrender of his mother and hers had been prompted by the opportunity of this distraction letting Munakata slip through the ring of guards to whisper something in Kisa's ear known only to the two of them.

Knowing Kisa, and by now Munakata knew her enough, it was not a threat that had broken her, but some reasoned argument that promised greater gain from playing along.

But out in the corridor when the coast was clear he watched Hidaka lead the now sobbing Aya back to her quarters, and wished that woman could have felt the full force of the fear Munakata could engender in those who opposed him, and even those who didn't.

As much, he supposed, as he wished she might have felt anything at all.

 

*~*~*

 

"So now what will happen?" asked Misaki.

The four of them were left in the corridor, each one too on edge to bother whining about Saruhiko being out of bed. On the other hand, the way Misaki looked to Suoh when he asked his question even though it was Munakata who would make the decision, was annoying. Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

"Now the investigation truly gets underway," said Munakata. He was clearly pensive; arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed as he kept his eyes on the other end of the corridor where their prisoners had been escorted. As it was him he might as well have running around yelling and panicking to have adopted such a look.

"What?" Misaki blurted out. "But didn't you just find out it was the Countess?! Isn't the investigation part over?"

Saruhiko laughed a mostly bitter laugh, though he saw some humour, and Suoh frowned: so he hadn't figured it out either.

"Saruhiko?" Misaki asked worriedly.

"Mi-sa-ki," Saruhiko drawled out, each syllable extended twice as long as usual to irritate Misaki twice as much. "Don't tell me you didn't realise my mother's _not_ the poisoner."

His eyes bugged, so he clearly hadn't.

"What!? But… but everything that Aya said – "

"We were even talking about it earlier," Saruhiko reminded him. "Having to take the evidence with a grain of salt? I don't think if my mother had poisoned my food she would have left said evidence lying around, even in a concealed compartment. And she has nothing to gain from this anyway, 'avenging my father and the rebellion' be damned."

Misaki visibly tried to come to terms with this.

"Then what Aya said about that… and about Anna… "

"Oh, Mother was all ready to bump off your little Lady if it meant getting a grandson on the throne of Homra, that wasn't a lie." Suoh's eyes went dangerously dark, but Saruhiko continued as though he was ignoring him. "And I wouldn't say my grace could put his life in her hands either either. But this, this is sloppy. Never mind that you heard her at the initial surrender negotiations last year, Misaki; reparations serve better than vengeance, and that woman would gladly dance on my father's grave if someone offered her another title for it."

Stunned, Misaki fell silent.

Munakata, however, had thought this through still further than Saruhiko had, or perhaps had been willing to, as he observed…

"Indeed. Yet, there was someone who was quite eager to make us believe otherwise."

Saruhiko had never thought he'd be stupid enough to allow himself to grow attached to anyone enough a scorpion that he'd ever feel the sting of something like betrayal. Family or otherwise.

Well, especially family.

And well, he thought, glancing at Misaki, not a 'knowing' betrayal. And yet, his mind followed the path his husband had cleared for it at once and though it automatically rejected the conclusion –

"Aya wouldn't…"

He trailed off.

The spawn inside him moved, a little flutter, and he imagined what it would be like to feel it die inside him, to bring forth a corpse.

"I trust your judgement on this matter," said Munakata. "She is your cousin. But if I may, I'd suggest you take the rest we talked of before you finish that sentence."

He told himself Aya wouldn't have…

And yet.

And yet the poison had not been meant to kill, and perhaps the poisoner had known he'd recognise it.

And yet his mother was a careful woman, and few could have planted the evidence unless they were already in her inner circle.

And yet Aya would indeed have risked much for vengeance for her beloved Lords, and had no great love for Kisa.

And yet there was a piece of the Aya he'd known missing now, and probably more unseen than just an arm.

The more and more he thought about it, the further he felt that sting push into him.

And yet…

One thing he was sure of.

Aya would never have done this on her own.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 


	11. The Delegation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was almost called 'The Christmas Special', because what could be more Christmas-y than... this thing. (the 'special' part is that I've actually updated after five million years... my excuse this time is that my hours have increased at work) Thank you, one and all, for all your comments and support.
> 
> In this instalment, Yata has feelings about Saruhiko being pregnant, and they're not the feelings you might expect; Munakata talks a lot with a few different people and subplots are introduced; and Suoh is a fire hazard even without magic fire powers.
> 
> And I just know you'll all absolutely LOVE the ending of this chapter, heh heh heh...

 

*~*~*

 

 

If it had been up to Yata, then after what had happened the night before he'd have had Saruhiko shut up in a steel tower, surrounded by a mile-wide moat of boiling lava with his door guarded by Yata himself while the two dukes did whatever they needed to, to make things safe for him again.

As it was not up to Yata, he instead found himself stood by the door of Tenrou House's main reception area, arms folded and restless as he watched Saruhiko sitting on a cushioned seat on the dais at one end of the room, next to Munakata while he heard the petitions that had been prepared for the day.

With his eyes scanning the room constantly lest some cloaked assassin should have leapt out of the shadows without warning, Yata couldn't help but wonder what the _fuck_ that weird-ass Duke was thinking, letting his mate sit next to him out in the open like that when _anyone_ could have been paid to pose as a petitioner for the day!

Though, it did seem like the problems facing him had gone from the horrific to the ridiculous.

" – which anyone could see, plain as day on the page!" some pointless lord whose name Yata had forgotten immediately for his own well-being was saying. "Even my half-brother. The title is a given one, not an inherited one, and so his mother may not use the family shield to crown her personal arms, she can only use it in separately, or as a miniature within her crest – having it within a crown is off-limits!"

Saruhiko turned the page in the book he was reading as the pompous old fart finished blustering. He seemed fine – if anything more focussed than Yata remembered him most of the time, but since it was so out of the ordinary it still worried him.

What else but a worrisome reaction could he have had to the idea that his own cousin, practically the only friend he'd ever had apart from Yata, and his family – that she had tried to kill his child?

Yata didn't know if he believed it himself. He trusted Lord Mikoto, who trusted Munakata, and Aya had been noticeably more than off every time he'd seen her since the end of the war… he couldn't imagine what she must have felt to be in the position she was in. But to have gone so far against her cousin, to have involved an innocent child in the mix as well…

He remembered her visits well, back in Ironpeak. Frankly he'd been glad for them, some of the only visits Saruhiko got that brought someone interested in him as a person, and someone who wasn't as shit-scared of Niki as everyone else let themselves be. Even if she had liked to tease him, they'd had… fun.

"I understand and appreciate your concerns, my lord," Munakata said to the windbag in front of him, while – in Yata's opinion – he should have been doing something about the attempt on Saruhiko's life! "But I have the signed documents from the Armorial Court that your brother sent to me – "

"Half-brother!"

"… that your half-brother sent to me, and this is a matter of their jurisdiction. Unless you have some compelling reason to further delay the erection of your step-mother's monument, which I am aware has already taken over seven years,  then for the sake of your family I can only advise you – "

"That faculty comes from the Armorial Court in Four Sceptres!" barked the lord, "Not the head chapter in the Capitol where the reviewing of the legislation is actually updated – and Sir Friedrich as much as admitted he was taking liberties with the stance on permissible regional variations when he signed it!"

Munakata grimaced. "I don't see that it would pay to create a precedent to overrule regional authorities by application to the Capitol, particularly as regards more restrictive handling of such cases. Lenience, in and of itself – "

"Lenience is all very well and good!" the lord interrupted him again, and by this point even Yata was beginning to feel offended for Munakata's sake. In Homra, the moron would have been tossed out of the hall with a boot up his ass five minutes ago. "But you cannot deny, your grace, that His Excellency has broken up the Midlands to the extent that Four Sceptres no long counts as our regional authority!"

"Not in matters of government," Munakata conceded. "But as regards the Armorial Court there is still no closer chapter, unless you'd prefer the southern – "

"Then one should be founded immediately!" the other insisted, "to protect the sanctity of the time-honoured traditions of our nobility!"

Sighing, Munakata glanced at Saruhiko – as if to make sure he was still all right, as opposed to as if he was asking for his opinion, and frankly Yata couldn’t see the Omega paying such attention to this farce that he'd have bothered to form one – then visibly schooled his features into the picture of serenity Yata had come to expect from him.

It was odd though, that if that was what the expression had changed to he suddenly couldn't think of what it might then have been before.

"Even if such an undertaking was to take place, my lord, it would not be done solely to allow you to triumph in this dispute. The ideas and opinions of others would have to be taken into consideration before a committee reached a decision."

_Wow,_ thought Yata. _Lord Pompous let him get through a whole sentence there…_

He guessed the man might have only done so because he looked too angry to speak though. It couldn't have been because he was taking the time to choose his next words carefully, because they turned out to be:

"Yes, but with all due respect, your grace, a man titled for such a short time as yourself cannot possibly begin to understand how serious the task of upholding the honour of the family in the noble tradition is to the old gentry! Nor how serious it is to have your family… attacked, by such an upstart, to the degree that – "

SNAP.

Saruhiko closed his book loudly enough that the sound echoed off the vaulted wooden walls and Yata saw a swarm of dust motes flying from the pages in the beam of sunlight coming in from the tall windows at the other side of the room. His face was inclined down, but when he lifted it a moment later it bore one of the most obviously false grins Yata had ever seen on his friend – the kind that reminded you he was Niki's son and nothing like the blank smile on the duke's face or Yata's own expression of disbelief and offence that he saw mirrored on Count Hidaka on the other side of the hall.

"Next," he called out, in a bored tone.

The lord blinked, looked to Munakata for an explanation he did not receive and after a few seconds of dithering choked out, "Wh-what?"

The ducal consort gave him an exaggerated sigh.

"Baron Matsuoka, I think you'll find the allotted time for your audience ended thirty seconds ago," he said. The Lord checked his pocket watch and frowned at it while Saruhiko continued – "If you could kindly take your leave we do have other petitioners waiting."

"I have eight minutes left!" protested the baron. "It took me six months to get this audience!"

With a nod to Hidaka, Saruhiko leant back in his chair. "And your stepmother will still be dead in another six months," he replied, and dusted some of the motes off his velvet sleeve.

"Your grace! I must protest! You can't let your mate make decisions in matters of state!"

"Well, it's a good thing my grace hasn't heard any matters of state today, isn't it?" Saruhiko said casually. "Next!"

Spluttering with outrage, the man was thus dragged from the room by two of the guards at the door whom Hidaka had called for – but Yata had little time for much rejoicing when he saw the doors open to the corridor outside, because near enough to the threshold for him to see them easily were the next petitioners, and he recognised them immediately.

_No way_ , he thought, as his entire body tensed up. _There's no way Munakata would be so reckless!_

The duke himself cleared his throat, ignoring the promises that he'd regret the insult coming from the baron as he muttered just loudly enough for Yata to hear,

"This should be interesting, my lord."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, but set his book aside and Yata took that to be as close to agreement as Saruhiko would admit to.

Neither of them seemed at all worried about the figures across the hall; half a dozen at the least from what Yata could see and in simple grey robes from head to toe – two women with even their faces covered by a veil, and what looked frighteningly like collars around their necks – they were ushered into the hall without complaint by Hidaka, though Yata could see he too at least looked unhappy about it.

At their head was a man of about fifty years, tall and gaunt with a thick grey beard beneath a bald scalp and dark green eyes that exuded a feeling of grimness so acute that Yata almost shuddered. He was set apart from his followers by the rough-looking grey hooded cloak around his shoulders, iron medallion on a cord displaying the bisected diamond of the Grey Lands' religion, and the rough-hewn wooden staff that tapped against the floor as he walked, topped with a bird carved from the wood.

A dove.

"Father Tetsuda," Munakata greeted, nodding his head.

Instead of taking the knee as he approached the dais the man nodded sharply, then crossed right over the line behind which he was meant to remain. Both Yata and Hidaka's hands flew immediately to their weapons, but Munakata stalled them with a wave of his hand without ever taking his eye off the priest approaching him and sure enough the man stopped halfway between the line and the edge of the platform.

Yata grit his teeth and had to force himself to think whether or not he might just make things worse if he stormed out and shove the bastard back behind the line where he was supposed to be instead of just doing it without thinking. That line was there because if a petitioner turned out to be an assassin it would take them longer to get from the line to the duke than it would for a guard in Yata's position to get to them.

True, that was somewhat outdated in this age of pistols and other contraptions, but even though they'd been searched at the door a knife was easier to hide than a gun.

_Don't lose it, Yatagarasu_ , he told himself sharply. _His little gang is all behind their line and Munakata can handle a single old priest if it comes to it…_

_But damn it, why does he have to take that chance!?_

"Your grace," returned the man; thick eastern Grey Lands accent, deep voice. "Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice."

There was a hint of dryness in that remark that had Yata thinking this priest too had been trying to see Munakata for a long time – though he should have been thanking his stupid god on bended knee that the Duke of Moonfalls had agreed to see him at all considering what his people had been getting up to, even if he wouldn't kneel for Munakata.

Of course, Munakata had probably only agreed to see him in order to size up his suspects. Fair enough for him, but to bring Saruhiko and their unborn child into it was making Yata hard-pressed not to storm over to _him_ and knock him out of his stupid fancy chair.

"Visitors are always welcome in Moonfalls," Munakata told the priest, with all poise.

"Yes, we were well-received by your welcoming committee, your grace," said Tetsuda, now drier still. "Brother Otto in particular felt the benefit of their reception."

He nodded over his shoulder and Yata noticed for the first time that one of the group standing at the front had a face as covered in near-fresh bruising as little Kai's was in scars. That, though he knew it shouldn't have made too much of a difference, softened his feeling towards them somewhat – because Otto looked about Yata's own age or younger, wasn't all that much taller, and gave you the impression that he might have been made easy work of by a rabbit.

Munakata raised his eyebrows.

"I see," he said. After a brief pause his eyes slid over to the right. "Lord Hidaka?"

"Your grace, Sir Haeckel is looking into the incident," said Hidaka.

A twitch in Munakata's facial expression just may have been suppressing a grimace when he heard that. He crossed one leg over the other while Saruhiko snorted next to him.

"Ah. Well, we had better see that notice is also given to Sir Genjiro Cohn as well."

"I'll see to it, your grace," Hidaka assured him.

Yata had no idea who Sir Genjiro was, but his mind was taken off that almost immediately by Tetsuda moving the conversation along forthwith. Though that did seem strange, because if it had been Yata, and one of his people had had their face smashed up by some Midlands thug in uniform, he probably could have harped on that for the rest of the allotted time.

… granted, that time was longer than it would have been before Saruhiko had had his fill of Baron Pompous Git.

"We appreciate you taking the matter seriously, your grace, though you need not feel moved to be too put out – it's hardly the first time a Brother of the Covenant has felt the sting of violence here or anywhere else, since the beginning of the war and these troubled times – and from our own countrymen as well as the children of other duchies."

"The situation in the Grey Lands is of great concern to us," Munakata agreed.

"Indeed, your grace had been the foremost in showing those words no mere platitude – my own monastery would not have made it through the winter without the grain you sent – though with the roads plagued as they are, not all of it reached us. But what can we say? What did reach us was enough, and by the Will of the Invisible Spirit that which did not reach us went to those who needed it more."

_What, thieves_? Yata almost said out loud. He really couldn't tell if the priest was being… what was the word? Not sarcastic, but something else – making fun of what he was saying even as he said it. Or was the man sincere in the sentiment? Or a mix of both?

He just couldn't tell. Well aware as he was that this may have been the man who somehow arranged for Saruhiko's poisoning, the gut instinct that should have told him whether or not the man was capable was nowhere to be found.

Now Kisa, that was an easy one to figure out, and it was a 'Hell, Yes'. She'd have done anything to anyone at any time; the only problem with that being she hadn't been the one to do this. Aya… That he didn't want to believe, but he had to admit the gut feeling was telling him yes. If she was pushed far enough, she'd do it too. The other suspects, Hirasaka, the Minato twins, that asshole who worked for Kokujoji, they were a yes, a yes, and a yes as far as Yata was concerned.

But this guy…

"You have the forethought of my lord consort to thank for that, Father Tetsuda," said Munakata, as Saruhiko rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, "Though it has been a relief for myself personally as well. Tell me, Father, I was given to understand that the concerns of the Children of the Dove were chiefly that the interim chief of administration in the Grey Lands be replaced by a Grey Lands native and that that native should also be a member of the Covenant. While I appreciate that it is far simpler for a party such as yours to enter the Midlands on a passport of religious pilgrimage, and simpler yet for you to appear before me on the pretence of concern for your treatment alone, I cannot help but feel it may be more helpful for you to centre this discussion around those administrative issues than it would the other – which, I assure you, is being handled with all due diligence – particularly considering your name is on the proverbial shortlist for Bishop of the Lymewhite Diocese come next election."

Yata was lost.

He saw Tetsuda's eyebrows go up, but while some of his followers exchanged nervous glances the priest himself only smiled wider and gave Munakata a nod of respect.

"You are certainly all they say you are, your grace."

Saruhiko snorted and muttered "I'd hope not," but was politely ignored.

Tetsuda continued, "However, do not think, your grace, that I spoke false by announcing myself to border authorities as being on a mission of pilgrimage: the concerns you mentioned are indeed the foremost on my mind, but in the Covenant we consider every action from the smallest to the largest to be a part of our observance of the Invisible Spirit's will, which speaks of our intention to honour Him and see His will through on Earth. The matters you speak of easily come under such a term."

"The smallest action is an observance of your Spirit's will?" Saruhiko asked with a sneer. "Tell me, priest, how does blondie at the back there picking his nose fit into that?"

One of the grey-cloaks startled and his hand shot behind his back in a split second.

"I had an itch on the inside!" he protested.

"Haruka!" snapped Tetsuda, eyes flashing angrily so briefly that Yata wasn't entirely sure he'd even seen it happen. The man was all smiles when he turned back to Saruhiko. "I'm sure it must seem strange to you, your grace – I did not come into the Covenant until later than you'd think in life and remember well my own confusion until my mentor explained it in the proper way, as I could explain it to your grace now – if he had the time to explore the answer to his question to the fullest detail."

Shifting slightly in his chair, Saruhiko grimaced and said, "I think I'll take it for granted that a man of your position is smart enough to have concocted some very convincing-sounding bullshit without having to go down that route."

There were stirrings of anger among the acolytes behind Tetsuda, but none from Tetsuda himself, who was more amused by the look of him.

"As your grace wishes. And now, your other grace," he turned to Munakata, "You have certainly guessed correctly at what is in my heart. I suppose it falls to you to answer it."

While Yata may not have fully grasped all the nuances of courtly etiquette quite yet, something was telling him that that would have been considered rude in Capitol circles. But then he wasn't quite sure how highly-ranked a priest in line for a Grey Lands' Bishop… ry (Bishopship? Bishophood?) was considered in a Midlands court – if he could get away with something like that. Munakata, of course, wouldn't have made the slightest noise even at the noisiest slight, but Yata was still finding himself unable to read the situation outside of whether or not this guy might have had anything to do with the poisoning attempt.

It didn't help that the situation in the Grey Lands confused him anyway. There was some ancient pre-Imperial law about the province having to be under the domain of a member of the Covenant, and that was causing a lot of issues with the current, Capitol-appointed administration, but Yata wasn't even exactly sure how one became a member, since it seemed it wasn't only religious leaders like this guy who did so. Since Iwafune had been one, and all.

Anyway, the Sun of Homra was a lot simpler to deal with, he felt.

Meanwhile, Munakata forced a sigh to turn into a smile and told the priest, "I fear even admitting your delegation early will not provide us the time we need to get through that. I am in agreement with you that a Grey Lands' native should be responsible for the local governance of the province, but I have little doubt such a governor would be looked upon with almost as much disfavour as the current one if they were, as this one was, appointed by the Emperor. The ideal would be for some sort of council or election to decide within the Grey Lands, except that… "

He trailed off. Tetsuda smirked ruefully with a small chuckle.

"That opinion in our home land is far too divided for any such individual to take that position without an equal, and likely violent, opposition."

"As you say," said Munakata.

"We are more than aware of that, your grace," Tetsuda assured him. "The factions are too numerous for any majority consensus. Our only course of action is to reduce the factions, and the only way to do that that honours the will of the Invisible Spirit, is to forge alliances between them; which is, ultimately, the purpose of our mission here."

"To forge alliances?" asked Saruhiko, eyebrows raised. "With us? Since when were we a faction of the Grey Lands?"

Tetsuda chuckled again. "Since we became part of the Empire, your grace. Imperial interest has always played a part in local government, and while – as you say – to have your husband appoint outright a governor would be a misstep, do not believe for a moment that his voice is not important in the discussion, your grace. The Duke of Moonfalls is thought of as highly as any outsider could be in our lands for his assistance since the end of the war."

Yata had the feeling that might have amounted to 'not much'. But then again, why shouldn't Munakata have been thought of highly in the Grey Lands? He'd done enough for them by feeding them through the winter, and throwing a lifeline to their economy through the railway to their quarries. More than a lot of the Imperials were happy about, in fact.

Then Tetsuda continued –

"Though admittedly, the loyalists to his grace the late Lord Iwafune, may the Spirit receive him, have their grudges. The will of the Invisible Spirit is that we purify ourselves of such destructive baggage, but even the faithful do not always live up to their potential. I believe the Spirit wills a harmonious relationship with you, your grace, and that our governor-to-be, whoever indeed he be, must be as much a symbol of that harmony as the Invisible Spirit – "

"Cut the crap," said Saruhiko, suddenly but without enthusiasm, an utterance that had Yata's heart skip a beat in fear of how angry this might make these weirdos at his friend. Tetsuda's eyebrows hadn't even reached their full height when Saruhiko went on, "You want my husband's assistance in seeing your candidate to power, fine, but if you actually expect it you'd better give us some clue as to who that candidate is going to be, or more than likely you're just wasting all our time."

Again, the grey-cloaks behind the priest looked visibly indignant, and one of their number actually approached the line; though the bruised one, Otto, held them back by tugging on their sleeve and shaking his head. When Tetsuda, seeming to notice the movement behind him, turned his head even slightly towards them, the brother who had moved slid back into formation like he'd been stung, and Tetsuda turned his attention back to Saruhiko, cocking his head.

"Tell me, your grace, during the course of the war did you have chance to interact much with our late Lord Iwafune?"

Saruhiko's expression didn't change, but the sudden stillness that came over him spoke of how the question affected him. Yata didn't know how to take it though, because in all honesty he'd never thought all that much about Iwafune Tenkei, who'd never been one to perpetrate atrocities of the calibre his comrades had.

"Some," he answered shortly.

"And may I ask what your impression of him was?"

Yet more stillness preceded Saruhiko's answer. Munakata turned his own gaze slowly towards him at an angle at which Yata couldn't see his eyes through the light shining on his glasses from the huge window at the other end of the hall, and at that point Saruhiko put one arm around his stomach to help himself shift into a more comfortable position, smiling falsely.

"My impression of Duke Iwafune…" he mused. "You know, Father Tetsuda – and it gives me some consternation to call you that, not having been raised in the Grey Lands I associate the address with my actual father, who I'm sure we all know was a homicidal maniac. My mother I can't say much more for, given that at this very moment she is confined in a cell beneath us for trying to poison me – "

Yata's heart began to thump – they'd agreed earlier that it would be better to keep as much of this from the public as possible so as not to cause a panic!

" – and as for the others, well; Isana Yashiro was psychotic enough that he as much as signed not only his own death warrant by his actions at Himmelreich, but also clean away the hopes his side had of winning the war, by seeing both Homra and the Church's allegiance swiftly against them. Hisui Nagare, the great and glorious leader, might have issued even the slightest reprimand, had he had even the slightest forethought for his forays into… what did he call it? Oh yes, 'transformation'. Of our stagnant and corrupt Empire into something he considered 'new and beautiful', but that anyone with even the pretence to being grounded in reality considered 'dangerous and terrifying'."

There was a slight pause, and Saruhiko's eyes narrowed.

"And next to one and all your late Lord Iwanfune. The worst of the lot."

Dead silence prevailed, until Tetsuda replied calmly,

"And why do you say that, your grace?"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

" _He_ should have known better," he said.

An air of finality in those words should have left space enough for Yata to parse through all that Saruhiko had said – he'd had no idea before the Omega had held his former allies… well, his parents' former allies in such contempt, but though a part of him was glad to hear he did, he couldn't help but find himself confused at that last remark of his old friend's.

_He_ should have known better? Maybe so, but such a thing still couldn't seem to stack up against the mountains of bodies that could be lain at the feet of the others – not soldiers or even civilians killed by accident, but civilians killed deliberately, and cruelly for that matter.

And yet, for all that and the stunned expressions on some of his entourage, Tetsuda seemed to take it in stride.

"Just as I said," he replied. "Destructive baggage must be purified and as a member of the Covenant Lord Iwafune should, indeed, have known better – but he never forgave Duke Kagutsu for his part in the death of his family – and see where it has lead us."

Yata had heard something about that, but he'd thought it had been some airship accident of some kind, he didn't know the details. What struck him more was how Saruhiko had seemed taken aback by that response, though he couldn't decipher Munakata any more than he usually could.

As Saruhiko turned with a frown towards his husband the priest smiled and went on:

"Before I tell your husband who I wish to advocate for – my 'candidate', as you put it – I believe you would like to know for what, exactly, I would be advocating his candidacy. I am a man of the Covenant, and for the past hundred and fifty-two years the brothers and sisters of the Covenant have followed both their spiritual and their secular leader in the form of one man – two offices which said man inherited, and two offices that should never have been held by just one man."

"Ah," said Munakata, eyes brightening a little, if not in what Yata would describe a comforting look. "You wish to have the office of the Duke of the Grey Lands and the office of Pontifex of the Covenant split into two again."

"Exactly," said Tetsuda. "Had there been a Pontifex to speak reason to the Duke, there could have been none to say he should have known better, for he _would_ have known better. Inexperienced as you are in the matters of our faith, your grace, I feel I can say with some certainty that you cannot know, being unfamiliar with our holy scripture, how counter to the texts it is to have a Pontifex _inherit_ their position."

Munakata brought his hands together, touching his index fingers. "And you come strictly to advocate for the office of Pontifex?" he asked.

"I am a man of faith and matters of the faith are all I should be advocating for," confirmed Tetsuda.

The corner of Munakata's mouth twitched. "And as Pontifex of the Covenant and all its brothers, sisters, and the flock – you would suggest… ?"

"I believe the will of the Invisible Spirit would best be served by seeing Johan Boehm ascend to the seat – "

Tetsuda trailed off there, probably because before he'd stopped speaking there was a crash from outside the room that had every head turn towards the door the delegation had come in through.

That was that, then. There were no questions in Yata's mind when he stormed out into the hall then, as the sound of distant yelling began to build. He had no idea who was out there or how they could have got in through Munakata's security, but enough was enough.

It was high time for him to get Saruhiko out of there.

"Misaki – " Saruhiko started, seeing him approach, but Yata said nothing – took the ducal consort's hand and snaked his other arm around his back to help him out of the chair. "Misaki!"

"I take it this is unexpected?" Tetsuda asked, seemingly calm enough but with a hint of apprehension that suggested whatever commotion was going on outside was no plan of his.

"Quite." Munakata leaned over and briefly put his hand on Saruhiko's. Yata was just about able to stop himself from pulling Saruhiko's arm away in turn. "My lord, I believe you should go with Sir Misaki."

Saruhiko moved forward, towards his husband. "And you will be?" he asked icily of Munakata.

The duke smiled. "A good host receives his guests, my lord."

At last, and with the shadows of enough people to suggest a large group flying across the wall of the corridor on the other side of the open door, Yata was able to entice Saruhiko to his feet.

"Fine," the Omega hissed. "Don't come crying to me if all you receive is a bullet."

The thought, as distrustful of Munakata as Yata was, proved surprisingly hard to swallow; as he lead Saruhiko away from the dais and towards the side door he'd been watching from. He saw Hidaka crane his neck around the doorway – enough to see out of for a moment before he turned back.

On his face was stark exasperation, which, tinged as it was with alarm, mostly worked to calm Yata's heart-rate to only about thrice its normal pace. It was a look that said they may not have been entirely out of the woods, but those woods were hardly as dangerous as they could have been.

That was probably why Yata let Saruhiko stand his ground behind the door instead of dragging him off to safety. That and 'dragging' a heavily pregnant Omega seemed wrong.

If things did get dangerous now he figured he'd just have to use himself as a shield.

A moment later a blue-cloaked guard was pushed past the open doorway, and Yata heard a voice he knew he should have recognised cry out,

"Out of my way, man! I demand to see his grace at once!"

Immediately, Saruhiko sagged next to him with a groan of annoyance.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.

"What, who is it?" asked Yata.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Rudolf Sasayama. Chances are he's risking having his head blown off by a guard for no more than a chance to rant about someone's pet pig being hit by one of the trains." He clicked his tongue. "Though it seems my husband's crack security team has let him past. I suppose his being Habari's castellan still has some weight."

Yata soon saw Sasayama for himself – a man with little more hair on the top of his head than Tetsuda; wispy, and near-grey. He appeared in the doorway just as it was blocked by Hidaka, and Yata could see the contempt on his face for Munakata's aide even through a crack in the doorway on the other side of the hall.

"Step aside, _Count_ Hidaka, if you would be so kind!" the man snarled – his emphasis on Hidaka's title speaking to where that contempt came from; Yata knew very well Hidaka had come from an untitled family and instantly disliked this 'Sasayama' in response. "The matter cannot wait!"

"It will have to wait, Sir Rudolf," Yata just about heard Hidaka reply. "I don't know how you got all these people past the guards, but in a time of heightened security – "

"And why must security be heightened, my lord? Is it not because a group of these Dove lunatics conspired against our duke? Don't look at me like that, Hidaka, I know very well what transpired on his grace's road back to Tenrou, and yet do I not see behind you a room full of the very same heathen scum? Oh no, I should think his grace will be far safer in the company of the good citizens of the city who I have brought with me!"

At that he attempted to simply thrust Hidaka aside, and Hidaka wasted no time in drawing his sword with a split-second scrape to hold before him, which gave Sasayama pause, but not a long one.

"Don't make me laugh, boy, I held my own against the armies of Kagutsu Ryou while your _mother_ was still in swaddling clothes!"

"Sir Rudolf."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose in uncharacteristic defeat the Duke of Moonfalls motioned for Hidaka to let the leader of the crowd of what to Yata's eyes looked like rather low-born folk, beyond the threshold and into the hall. Hidaka did so reluctantly, but kept the rest back.

At the same time Yata saw from the corner of his eye the two veiled women in the Children of the Dove's party turn to face each other, then kneel on the ground with slight motions in their covered faces that made it look like they were saying something, though he couldn't hear anything.

Rudolf Sasayama came forth like a storm cloud, rumbling with thunder.

"Your grace!" he called.

"Sir Rudolf," Munakata replied. "Do not think there will be no consequences for this intrusion; Father Tetsuda has approached us in the proper manner, despite our differences, and you have not. For all that has happened I still hold fast with adherence to the customary procedures of the court."

The knight glared, but didn't interrupt before he began his piece; "The insult that has been made apparent to us cannot wait!" He also, unlike Tetsuda, stopped behind the line, to the right of the grey-cloaks before he continued, spitting, "The airfields outside this city are being prepared to receive a Raijuhawk! The very same engines – designed by Gojou Sukuna himself, no less! – that Fushimi Niki used to destroy the better part of this city!"

Yata felt Saruhiko go stiff and stop breathing when the name 'Gojou Sukuna' was mentioned, and couldn't help but stop himself until he felt his childhood friend's chest begin to move again.

Gojou Sukuna. He thought of the child he'd never seen in person – still a killer and at the same time still a child – and how he'd sent him whirling to destruction that night that seemed so long ago now.

But it hadn't even been a year yet, had it?

Munakata was very still below the neck when he responded.

"The design of what the late Marquis referred to as the 'Raijuhawk', though his excellency would now prefer they be called 'Goldstars', remains that of the fastest airship known to man. As such, the Capitol has decided to adopt the craft, with some alteration, as their own staple transport."

"Which is all very well and good for the Capitol!" snapped Sasayama. "The Raijuhawks never made it out that far! But here and in this city the men and women who look to you for protection have no desire to see their vile shape darken the skies above them, ever again!"

In the silence that followed Yata could see that even Munakata was beginning to lose his patience, but by contrast, and to his surprise, Saruhiko seemed… disturbed.

It was something in his face Yata felt like he'd never seen before. On the surface similar to the kind of fear that had sometimes let slip on his friend's face even at the mention of Niki's name, the same that had still been visible deep within his eyes the few times Yata had actually seen him in the man's presence – because he'd never seen anything rumours had spoken of with his own eyes. If he had…

Well, he'd have done something about it. But here and now there was something missing; the spite, the hatred for the man who made him feel that fear was gone and in its place was some other kind of discomfort Yata didn't feel he could define, and it was frustrating, because what he did feel, in his gut, was that if he only could work out that look…

Saruhiko then steeled himself with a hand over his belly, and though Yata knew just as well he shouldn't look, not while he was standing this close, his eyes followed the motion of the arm.

"Please, Sir Rudolf, try to control yourself as a gentleman ought."

The man guffawed. "It is a tall order, your grace," he barked, "for any gentleman to control himself to the degree that _you_ do."

All else aside, Yata couldn't help but agree with him on that.

But Saruhiko flinched.

"Should his grace ban the use of butchers' knives the next time one is used to stab a person?"

He barely heard Tetsuda's dry response to Sasayama's outrage. His gaze had fallen on the one place that it hadn't been able to escape since coming to Tenrou Point.

_"Yes, Misaki. There's a baby in there."_

Like he was in front of the Fire of Life he felt his face heat up. In the hall Sasayama yelled something angry at the remark Tetsuda had made, and Saruhiko was watching and listening intently, but Yata couldn't. He was too close – almost touching.

The Omega's gown had been tailored specially for the bump, the baby that was growing safely inside its mother – it showed the growth well, accentuated it. It was no lie to say Yata had been overjoyed to hear that Saruhiko hadn't had to feel the sting of miscarriage that so many Omega males suffered with their first pregnancies, but sitting in the inner sanctum at Ashrock, Lord Kusanagi smiling before him as he delivered the gossip he'd heard since his last visit, it would have also been a lie to say that Yata had felt nothing else.

A sinking feeling, leftover worry probably from the idea that Saruhiko may not have wanted to be married to that… strange man.

And…

Seeing him, in that carriage when they'd approached the city, had filled him with strange feelings he'd never felt in unison before. Had set his heart racing as fast as it was even now.

Saruhiko was his friend. They had shared a bond he'd had with no one else, and liked to think Saruhiko had with no one else either. Saruhiko had been damaged by the war without ever seeing a battle, losing people and security, his first fiancé to Yata's own command, and any feeling of their bond to Yata's need to fight on the right side of the war – but for a wooden shell he'd found too painful to keep.

Yata should not have been looking. Should not have let one eye wander further down Saruhiko's body to the soft curve of his buttocks while the other remained on his swollen front. Should not have wondered what those curves looked like without the paisley-patterned lilac robe covering the skin. Should not have felt the urge to wrap his arms around the other from behind and run his hands over the growth… maybe pretend…

No. He should not have been looking. Even as enough guards approached from outside the hall to quieten Sasayama's impromptu protest and, within a few minutes, leave the coast looking clear enough for Saruhiko to return to his husband's side, he should not have let his attention drop for even a second.

Saruhiko moved to re-enter the hall and Yata grabbed his hand tight, on instinct. The Omega looked back at him, bewildered.

"Misaki?"

Yata had no idea how Munakata had resolved the situation and didn't even protest the usage of his stupid first name. His face felt hotter than ever when he dropped Saruhiko's hand again. And while Saruhiko frowned and then shook it off, returning to the hall, Yata grit his teeth and clenched his fists.

His cock was growing hard inside his trousers.

He felt like the worst person who'd ever lived.

 

*~*~*

 

"So?" Lord Mikoto asked, crossing one leg over the other as he leant up against the wall.

They sat or stood in the same Map Room Yata guessed the two had held conference in the night before when everything had gone so haywire. With Saruhiko gone back to his chambers to rest – which was either a terrible or a good thing, as it got him out of Yata's sight – he was looking over the giant map in the centre of the room while Lord Mikoto spoke, peering at the distance between the clearly marked out Ironpeak and Ashrock, trying to remember how he'd come from the one place to the other.

There were so many mountains in Westermont. Which silver lump marked the one Saruhiko had lead him over? – he wondered, before he forced himself to pay attention to the conversation.

Munakata raised his eyebrows. "So?" he asked in return, as though wondering what Lord Mikoto was going on about.

But Yata felt that even he was able to catch the meaning in that one word, and with a roll of his eyes he snapped back –

" _So_ , what do you think of Tetsuda!? Was he the one who poisoned Saruhiko or not!?"

He paused briefly.

"… my lord." Wait, that was wrong. He waved his arm, "Your grace… whatever."

The duke grinned, then oddly mirrored Lord Mikoto leaning back against his chair and crossing one leg over the other.

"Hmm, I think not," he said. "Father Tetsuda clearly has ambitions to see his Spirit's will done and so far as I am aware the poisoning of pregnant Omegas runs contrary to that."

Yata scoffed. "Oh, come on! You can't mean you believe that just because he's a priest, and they say they're not violent, that he couldn't have done something like this! Weismann's a priest and all, but that didn't stop him leading a contingent against Hisui – twice!"

"Ah, but the key word in what I said there happened to be 'ambitions'. I'm well aware of the career of Johan Boehm, the Bishop of Sandred whom Father Tetsuda spoke of so highly by his advocacy for him to ascend to the theoretical Pontifex seat. Lord Boehm is competent, intelligent, free from personal scandal and remarkably energetic… for his age." Munakata's grin widened. "… which is quite advanced. Were he to ascend to Pontifex I feel he would not occupy the position long, and no doubt when he passed on, he'd have put in a good word for the man who advocated his advancement so courageously to be considered to take his place – a place neither Boehm nor Tetsuda could occupy while it was still an inherited title."

Before Yata could fully absorb that, (fuck, did Saruhiko's stupid husband have to talk so much?!), the duke shrugged and added, smile vanishing,

"None of which would be served by an attempt on me or my associates. Though we cannot rule out a member of his party, of course."

"Oh yeah," said Lord Mikoto, smirking. "Those Sisters of Service looked pretty deadly."

Munakata gestured towards him, amused but not as much as Lord Mikoto by the thought.

"Sisters of Service?" asked Yata.

"The veiled women with the Children of the Dove," Munakata explained. "With the collars – they accept them as a sign of their devotion to the service of others. And you never know what someone may have convinced them was required by their service." He and his fellow duke held eye contact for a moment. Then he looked away again. "But it will take some time before the characters of all Father Tetsuda's entourage can be verified. Most do not hail from titled families."

Yata disliked the hint of finality in that tone.

"So what?" he asked. "We just sit on our asses and wait for this bastard to try and hurt Saruhiko again? Your kid too?"

Three birds flew past the window, and Munakata allowed himself to be distracted by that apparently much more important event before answering,

"Not as such. But remember, Sir Misaki, our current working theory is that Lady Fushimi is the true target of this would-be assassin, which would put suspicion onto the Loyalists were it not for the fact that we also believe Sir Oogai Aya to be – if not the perpetrator – then at least his or her agent. From discussion with my lord husband this morning I do not believe Sir Aya would have used that poison with the intent to kill Saruhiko or our child, rather that her intent was exactly what transpired."

Lord Mikoto shook some ash onto the carpet, visibly annoying Munakata, who rolled his eyes – but Lord Mikoto rather pointedly took no notice.

"We sure she's working with someone else then? Not just trying to get her own hands on Westermont?"

"I am currently satisfied that that is the case," said Munakata.

"And our play to flush this guy out is… ?"

Munakata put his hands on his legs, brushed them off – of nothing that Yata could see, but then the guy did strike him as a neat freak – and stood up.

"Currently we are relying on our surveillance of Oogai Aya to reveal her master."

"That's it?" Yata asked with disbelief.

The duke smiled his standard expression. "What else would you suggest, Sir Misaki? The mastermind behind the plan would have clearly had no reason to enter the House, so our review of the log-book will get us nowhere, and with so many enemies to choose from even if we only count those from former rebel territory it would take years to begin questioning them."

"Well, if you're that unconcerned about it – " Yata began to snap back, but –

"Yata."

Lord Mikoto's voice jolted him back to reality, where he was practically screaming at a man so far above his station he could have been executed for it, and with a slight shake of his head had him back away a step.

And it made sense to do so. The man was a war-hero, so having Yata yell at him was hardly going to be intimidating.

He was just so… frustrating. Didn't the guy realise that much? From the moment Yata had first seen him standing on the deck of his airship during the war, literally looking down on the infantry Yata had devoted his life to while Lord Mikoto himself had scoffed at such theatrics, the man had rubbed him the wrong way.

"Of course I understand your feelings, Sir Misaki," he said. "Saruhiko was your childhood friend, and is very important to me as well."

Important as a symbol or as a person though, that was what Yata had his doubts about.

"But the utmost care is being taken to protect him, and our legacy. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I must return to my office to see to the more urgent communications – I'm sure I'll see you both tonight."

"What's tonight?" asked Yata, before he could stop himself.

Munakata had already swept past him, towards the door, but he turned back gracefully to give his answer.

"There's a function every night when two dukes occupy the same house," he said, ruefully. "This time I suppose I shall have to make an announcement about the assassination attempt." He paused. "Both of them. My lord husband shall avoid it in his condition, but I'm sure you'll make an appearance, Suoh."

Lord Mikoto snorted. "I'm paying for it, aren't I?"

Munakata's eyebrows flew up, but his grin became suddenly more genuine. "Why, my lord – how uncouth to mention such a thing. Until tonight."

He left before Lord Mikoto could reply, so Yata didn't know who he thought he was calling 'uncouth' – and Lord Mikoto let his head thunk back against the wall, rolling his eyes.

"I want to kill that guy at least twenty times a day," he said.

Yata concurred, but given what had happened in the last minute thought better of saying so. Instead –

"I'm sorry for what I said to him in your presence, Lord Mikoto."

The shrug from his liege lord in turn was a relief.

"Don't be. I stopped you more for your sake than for his – you looked like you were getting stressed."

Now Yata was embarrassed again.

"My apologies, Lord Mikoto," he said.

The duke sighed, flicking his spent cigarette into a wastepaper basket beneath one of the side tables and hooking his thumbs in the loops of his belt as he stepped away from the wall.

"You still my knight, Yata?"

Thick and fast the memories of that dreadful day of those war crimes tribunals returned to Yata's head, stained with the guilt of knowing that even though that asshole had been wrong about Saruhiko and his father, Yata couldn't have done anything about it if he hadn't been, and yet had the gall to…

To…

He didn't want to think about it – especially in front of Lord Mikoto. It was wrong, and wrong on so many levels he didn't think he could keep track of them. Still, Lord Mikoto had asked him a question, and the answer could only ever have been:

"Of course, Lord Mikoto!"

"Yeah," Lord Mikoto smiled. "But then, there was a hesitation there, wasn't there?"

Yata's heart sank.

"You thinking about Fushimi?" Lord Mikoto asked him.

Lying was the last thing Yata would have thought to do before his Lord. He nodded.

"Hn. You worried?"

_Among other things_. But it wasn't a lie to leap on that being the only thing bothering him. "Lord Mikoto, I don't know if I think Duke Munakata takes this seriously enough."

To his surprise, Lord Mikoto actually chuckled.

"Oh, I think he takes it too seriously, Yata. This and everything else that's on his plate. Suppose I shouldn't throw stones before I've been in his shoes – "

_Was that one of those mixed metaphors?_ Yata wondered.

" – but it's not like he wouldn't do the same for me. Before you came in he'd spent as much time talking about the pros and cons of splitting the Ducal seat of the Grey Lands from the Pontifex as he did the assassin, and as much again talking about that stunt Sasayama pulled." He paused. "Did you hear anything about a visit from the Capitol requiring those new airfield procedures?" he asked.

Yata shrugged.

"Yeah, me neither. Really annoying if it stirred up all that shit for nothing." He frowned, then shook his head of the thought. "Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if anyone who tried to mess with your friend found they'd bitten off more than they could chew even without Captain Glasses and the rest of us looking out for him. I remember what you told me about how he got you out of Westermont."

Remembering that just as well, Yata couldn't disagree. But then Lord Mikoto asked him –

"Aside from that, is everything good between the two of you?"

_Well, no, since I killed his fourteen-year-old fiancé and all_ , Yata thought to himself. But he answered, "Mostly."

"Meaning 'no'," said Lord Mikoto. "Well, I wish I could tell you what to do about that. When Tatara died…"

He trailed off for a few moments, shaking his head, and Yata felt his heart twist even more in his chest.

"I wouldn't say it was any easier or harder to lose him with us never having any problems. Sometimes I wonder if he'd be clearer in my memories if we had fought more than we did."

"Lord Mikoto… "

"Doesn't matter now. And I doubt you want to hear about that anyway – Fushimi is Munakata's mate after all." He paused again. "Not that that's gone entirely smooth either. According to him, your friend doesn't hold anything back."

"Lord Mikoto… the wastepaper basket is on fire."

With a few blinks, Yata's liege glanced over to where the wisp of smoke was steadily rising from the basket he'd tossed his cigarette into. Yata couldn't describe how it made him feel to have Lord Mikoto actually talk to him, even briefly, about Lord Totsuka, about anything anywhere near that personal – like Yata was someone he felt he could trust on the same level as Lord Kusanagi or something – and how he hated to have to distract him from that the way he did.

But the wastepaper basket _was_ on fire, and he figured burning the palace down might be bad for Saruhiko and his baby. Lord Mikoto observed the small stream of smoke blandly before picking the whole basket up and carrying it over to the window. With a short glance outside in both directions, he threw it out. Yata figured the ground beneath the window was probably covered in slush and would take care of the issue as was.

Lord Mikoto then closed the window and turned back to him, staying still until the silence became awkward, then –

"What were we talking about again?"

Yata found the answer to that suddenly flew out of his head.

"… uh, Saruhiko? Lord Fushimi, I mean."

"Right. Anyway, go say whatever it is you want to say to him. However bad it is it can't be as bad as being a coward about it, that's my advice."

Coward.

" – though Duke Know-it-all would probably say it was the wrong thing to do."

No, Lord Mikoto was right – it was cowardly to avoid the topic. The topic of Gojou Sukuna at least, avoiding the other thing was more a matter of common decency.

However much Saruhiko resented, or even hated him – though he couldn't help but feel it at least wasn't that! – for bringing down those airships, he had to know. And if he could, he had to make amends.

He was a Knight of the Flame, after all. The Crow of Homra. He couldn't run away from his problems.

"Thank you, Lord Mikoto!" he blurted out, even as his liege was muttering something else under his breath – probably about how irritating Munakata was – then bowed stiffly and took his leave of him.

There was no doubt in his mind that he should see to following his Lord's advice at once, before the courage to do so left him. What kind of man was he, after all, if he could ride into battle against his own former countrymen for what he believed in, without the benefit of the education in arms his fellow knights had had, but couldn't make himself give a simple apology to a friend?

And an honest one; not the beating around the bush he'd done back in the Capitol after the wedding. Honesty was something he'd always been proud of himself for, if only Saruhiko didn't always make him feel like everything he said was somehow wrong regardless of how true it was.

Like the day he'd left, and said he refused to play lapdog to a pair of tyrants. That odd smile on Saruhiko's face – he'd not really taken issue with his parents being called that, but nevertheless it hadn't been what he'd wanted to hear. Because it had meant that Yata would leave?

Had he had to pretend his doing such a thing had meant so little to him, then?

Yata shook his head, continuing his march through the corridors of Tenrou House, towards its ducal consort's chambers. Today he was going to make up for his own shortcomings, not focus on Saruhiko's. Saruhiko had been through enough already.

It occurred to him that the Omega would stop pretending that Yata had nothing to be sorry for, as he had been with that same smile that told him the pretence was only that, once he'd laid it out in the open. Maybe he'd even say he actually wanted nothing to do with Yata because of it; had only been playing with him so far because after what had happened he enjoyed watching him squirm around trying to figure out what was going on.

_No,_ he told himself again. _Saruhiko saved you, and Mom and everyone. He's not that cruel._

Regardless, it was time for Yata to do what was right.

He passed the guards with little trouble, being on the shortlist of people to be accepted into the room and as much a guard as any of them in all honesty since the night before. Nor did he have any fears of disturbing Saruhiko's rest – things may have changed, but not so much that he had any delusions Saruhiko would actually be resting.

Sure enough, and as uncomfortable as it looked with him so heavily pregnant – _don't even think about that_ , he ordered himself – Saruhiko was sat at the huge cherry-wood desk, frowning at a report when Yata entered the room, his heart pounding with the trepidation.

He had no idea really, how Saruhiko would react to this.

"Misaki?" asked Saruhiko. "Don't tell me you're going to miss the party to babysit me. It sounded like it would be such fun – "

"Saruhiko!" he called, interrupting the other youth and making his eyebrows raise in a manner that threw him off for a fraction of a second because it reminded him so much of Munakata. "I have something to say to you!"

Saruhiko stayed sitting where he was, looked one way as if expecting a joke, then reached for the glass of water on his desk like he might have needed it.

"Saruhiko, I need to tell you that I'm sorry I killed your fiancé!"

Halfway through a generous sip, Saruhiko jolted and spat the water out again, half back into the glass, half over himself.

Seized by the fresh and terrifying memory of the dinner from the night before, Yata leapt forward.

"Saruhiko – your water! Don't tell me the poisoner struck again – !"

Yata was cut off when said water was abruptly thrown in his face.

"No, you idiot, the water's not poisoned; I've been drinking from that jug for over an hour – I spat it out because I was surprised there were stupider depths yet for you to fall to than what I've seen from you before!" he stared, wide eyes Yata met as soon as he'd wiped the water from his own. "What are you on about, Misaki – 'killed my fiancé'? Munakata's not dead, unless you were about to bring me that news too, and we've kind of passed the engagement at this point!"

"Not Munakata!" Yata exclaimed quickly. "I mean Gojou Sukuna!"

The way Saruhiko looked at him then, more like he had no idea what Yata was talking about than that he had been agonising over this for almost a year, should have brought Yata hope.

Somehow, though, it only made him more nervous.

"Gojou Sukuna?" Saruhiko repeated. Dully – like he was still somehow confused.

But maybe he was only confused that it had apparently taken Yata this long to come to that conclusion. So he swallowed down his uncertainty, and continued on the path he'd set for himself.

"He was your fiancé," said Yata. "And I did kill him. Lord Mikoto gave me some leeway in deciding how that all went down, so I can't shove the responsibility off onto him. I don't know exactly what things were like between the two of you, but with the engagement I imagine you must have been… well."

The feeling in his chest was physically painful.

"Well, not many people are as smart as you are, but he was supposed to be a genius too, and I saw the look on your face when that knight mentioned his name in the hall this morning!"

At that point he couldn't bear to look Saruhiko in the eye – but reminding himself what Lord Mikoto had said about cowardice, he forced himself to look right back.

"Anyway, this is my apology to you; as a knight, and as a man, for being the cause of the death of someone important to you. Whatever you want from this, I'll do my best to see it done."

There.

Although the sick feeling didn't dissipate the moment he'd made the apology, as he worried among other things the words hadn't been… courtly enough, and Saruhiko's reaction still to come, there was at least a spark of pride in himself for facing up to it at last, for all it had taken so many months since it had been pointed out to him.

And then he realised that the shaking motion in Saruhiko's shoulders was barely-repressed, and then not-at-all-repressed, laughter. It almost made him lightheaded.

"Saruhiko… ?" he ventured, hesitantly. It could have been that it was a stressed reaction, Yata had seen soldiers on a battlefield laugh hysterically enough at times –

"Misaki, I don't give a shit about Sukuna," Saruhiko told him bluntly. "The day I heard he was dead was one of the best days of my life as far as I'm concerned, and that's even when you factor in I thought it meant certain death for me as well at the time."

Wait, what?

"Huh?" said Yata. It sounded stupid even to his own ears, but he couldn't help himself – it summed up his feelings nicely.

The largest eye-roll, perhaps, that Saruhiko had ever graced him with followed, and then:

"Oh, Misaki. Don't tell me that was what you were trying to apologise for back in the Capitol? What you've been so off about ever since we saw each other again there?"

Yata found himself blinking. "… Aya said that – "

"Oh, _Aya_ said, did she? Well, let me make one thing clear at least." He pulled himself out of his chair and to his feet, a clearly laborious task that Yata felt compelled to try and help him with, if only Saruhiko hadn't distracted him with, "What Aya imagines was the status of our happy rebel camp, and what it actually was, are not quite entirely as congruous as she or you apparently, might believe."

He remembered the bitter insults Saruhiko had thrown at the rebel leaders only that morning, and yet Saruhiko had left Gojou out of that… but could it really be that even so the death of the boy had meant nothing – even meant happiness to him?

"Gojou Sukuna was a violent, spoiled, arrogant little shit altogether far too obsessed with what his beloved cousin Hisui thought of him, and all too ready to unleash his temper on anyone he felt might get between him and the _noble_ Duke of Jungle."

Saruhiko laughed at whatever memory this was bringing him, and bitterly so.

"He was intelligent, I'll give him that," he said. "But not nearly as much as he thought he was. Try to tell him that, though, and it was _'Nagare says if you talk back to me when we're married I can break your jaw_ '!" he affected a high-pitched child's whine. "Or _'Nagare said I can get rid of you once you've had a few kids_ ', or _'Stop trying to make me look bad in front of Nagare when you're only a worthless, ugly Omega_ ' – as if his petty insults had any effect on me!"

Yata couldn't think, could only take this message in.

"He might have had a physical effect if we ever had been married, come to think of it," Saruhiko continued, still angry like he'd held this in so long that even long past meaning anything the fury was as fresh as the day it had been born. "As far back as when the Raijuhawks were first built the brat had me cornered on a balcony and tried to break my arm for telling him it was past his bedtime – and I had to rely on fucking Niki of all people to come to my rescue!"

"Niki – but… but Gojou was just a kid…"

"An Alpha kid. He could have done it if dearest Father hadn't happened along." He laughed again, sounding more and more like those lost soldiers. "Those Raijuhawks. It was the mention of _them_ you saw my face change at this morning, Misaki, not of fucking Gojou Sukuna!"

Suddenly, Saruhiko started forward and for a second or so Yata was actually afraid to see him approach. And when he grabbed him just below the shoulders and dug his fingers in, leaning down to Yata's ear, he seemed so much stronger than the frail Omega he so often appeared to be.

There'd be bruises afterwards, Yata could tell.

"The amazing Raijuhawks, designed by Gojou Sukuna himself," Saruhiko hissed right into Yata's ear, shaking the both of them with the effort of his rant.

And then…

"Only he didn't. That brat was only interested in artillery, as if it was the be-all and the end-all of winning a war."

What?

"No, Sukuna didn't design the Raijuhawks."

_What?_

"I did."

_… destroyed the better part of the city…_

Yata had little time to think about that revelation, because that was when the door to the next chamber was thrown open and Aya flung herself into the room.

"Was that true!?" she cried.

There was a beat of silence in which both Yata and Saruhiko just stared at her, and then Saruhiko pushed himself upright firmly to growl –

"Aya, what the hell do you think you're doing – "

"Is it true!?" Aya yelled again, and angrier now, tears collecting in her wide eyes as Yata watched, stunned, hardly able to believe he was seeing it twice in as many days.

That was when he remembered Aya was the one behind the poisoning, in all likelihood, and scrambled to put himself between her and Saruhiko.

"How did you get into the next room!?" he asked her.

"Past my own guards and Saruhiko's?" She snorted. "It wasn't easy. But stand down, Misaki, I'm not going to hurt Saruhiko. I just want to know if it's true; if Lord Gojou really treated you like that when you were engaged?!"

"Damn it, Aya, don't use my first name – "

"If it was true?" Saruhiko interrupted, echoing Aya's question. The wild look in his eyes had either re-energised or hadn't abated in the first place since he'd spilled his secret. "That he treated me like shit? Well yes, Aya, yes it was true – were you not paying attention? Or did the rebellion's delusions of glory and freedom really blind you that much?"

"I hardly ever saw the two of you in the same place – you were hardly ever in the same place!" Aya shot back, desperately. "If I had known, I would have never – would have never, never – !"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but something in the horror in Aya's face made Yata think, perhaps, that something a lot deeper was going on and about to come to light than what readily appeared now.

"Never what?" sneered Saruhiko. "Never thrown your lot in with his band of Merry Men? Never sacrificed your arm for the brat when he ended up dying anyway?"

Aya looked right up at them, past Misaki and directly into Saruhiko's eyes.

"Never sacrificed my arm to help him escape!" she spat.

"Well, he didn't escape, so I guess you're all right – "

"Yes, Saruhiko," Aya yelled over him. "He _did_. The Imperial troops found his succession medallion on a body double."

All air seemed to leave the room immediately. Saruhiko's expression very quickly mirrored Aya's earlier horror, and Yata felt his stomach sink further and further. Aya took a deep breath and spelled it out succinctly forthwith.

"Saruhiko, Lord Gojou is alive and I've been working for him."

 

*~*~*

 

It was early yet, the sun not visible but the sky still yellow with its light above the horizon, the blue at the highest part only just starting to get darker. Munakata had thus only just given the order for the chandeliers to be lit throughout the hall, and before his eyes a blue-clad guard struck a match against the lighting stick.

Only the first of the evening's guests had come into the hall, though he was somewhat put out to notice Sir Rudolf Sasayama among them. He'd thought he'd made it clear earlier in the day that the knight was treading on thin ice, but then he supposed as long as the man behaved himself here…

It almost made him sigh to think of that one thing on top of everything. Of course the people wouldn't want to prepare to receive Raijuhawks – even modified and renamed – as their Emperor's chariot of choice. Not that he'd expected Kokujoji to be overly sensitive, and in his opinion it was a silly thing to be upset about.

For it to come out now though, with no Imperial visit even on schedule; Saruhiko in danger and Lady Fushimi confined for a crime she almost certainly did not commit… He hated to think what would be said if that became well known as well.

Though, things being as they were, it was bound to within a few days once he'd confirmed a crime had been committed.

"Slow down, young master, slow down!"

The familiar whisper-yell of Kai's attendant was a much more welcome intrusion to his preparations for the evening, as it heralded the approach of his speedy little nephew, ducking and weaving among the gathered gentry.

A less composed man may have affected being stunned by the impact of the child's arms around his legs, but Munakata remained quite still when he accepted the embrace.

_"It is a tall order for any gentleman to compose himself to the degree that you do!"_

The unwelcome memory from that morning threatened to falter his smile, but in that moment he wasn't quite sure why, and hadn't really any intention of thinking further on it. He just ruffled Kai's hair and stepped back gently from him.

"Hello, Kai," he greeted. "Have you been taking care of Lady Kushina?"

Kai nodded, and pointed to the door at the side of the dais at which Yata Misaki had been standing guard that morning. Munakata was just a touch surprised to see him absent from Suoh Mikoto's side when he took note of the duke slouching in the doorway, his daughter just stopping next to him to greet her father.

Suoh caught his eye for a moment and the look in those eyes made his heart feel lighter for a moment.

"I wonder where Sir Misaki is," he said absently, just to have something to say mostly.

The lady nearest him, an older Alpha who'd played the Whip in Habari's court, snorted – and knowing the woman as he'd come to, Munakata prepared for an encounter he imagined he'd have rather not had Kai present for.

"They say cuttlefish are masters of remaining hidden," she said, like it was merely an interesting fact.

Munakata knew where she was going with it instantly.

"I'd no idea you had an interest in marine biology, Lady Iori," he said casually.

The old woman spared him a glance and a cruel smile. "Oh yes," she said. "They change colour, you see. Also, the Alphas fight over the Omegas and the strongest alone lay claim to them, but the interesting thing about that is that some of the Betas can make themselves appear so small and unthreatening that they slip right in under the Alpha's nose to mate with their Omegas, and the Alphas simply pay them no mind."

"My, my," Munakata replied, smile frozen on his face. "That is interesting."

Lady Iori chuckled. "I am a veritable fount of knowledge, if not wisdom. Good evening, your grace."

"My lady," he nodded to her. She moved on to torment someone else presently.

Fortunately Kai hadn't seemed to get the meaning of that – and being six years old why should he have? Lady Iori only liked to stir the pot for fun anyway, she was mostly harmless.

Yata Misaki…

He didn't want to think about it. Honestly he probably should have managed the relationship more carefully, only it felt so unfair to him that his poor husband should have so few loves in his life while Munakata had…

While he had no need of them, he supposed.

Another glance to his side caught Suoh's gaze again. Then Kai tugged on the side of his coat.

"Hmm?"

His nephew pointed to the main door, where the attention of many others in the room had suddenly turned.

Munakata's eyes narrowed. Flanked by a contingent of guards his heavily pregnant mate, who should have been resting, stormed into the room – a black look on his face as he practically dragged his cousin in behind him by her one arm. Yata Misaki was at his side, more troubled than Munakata had ever seen him, but the look on Sir Aya's face, of doom and despair, that was what caught his attention more than any of the others.

At his side he glanced once more at Suoh, who had also noticed this interruption. Could it be, perhaps, that Oogai Aya had decided to _admit_ her part in the attempted poisoning, wracked by guilt? If so it was certainly a fortuitous turn of events, but he couldn't help but feel like –

…

BANG.

…

In the second that followed, what seemed like a hundred things happened at once.

The sound Munakata heard was like a firework, and like it had come from as far away as he'd expect a firework as well, far outside the building.

But at the same time the glass in the tall, high window before him, and the pane in the corridor beyond that leading out into the courtyard and beyond to the cathedral across the street, abruptly broke like a rock had been thrown through both of them.

And he was sure he heard two separate crashes too, but so close together they couldn't have been caused by a mere thrown rock.

He might have been slightly off his game in his analysis of the noise though, because at the exact same time an impact, so utterly overwhelming he couldn't pinpoint it, slammed into his midsection and knocked him back against the wall behind him with a thud.

There were a few screams at the sound of the breaking glass. The sound of his own body hitting the wall was so much louder than it should have been.

Nausea spread throughout him in an instant, followed without space by an excruciating pain in his stomach he couldn't comprehend, and he looked up to make sure Kai hadn't been startled by whatever had knocked him into the wall…

… only to see his scarred face spattered with blood.

And blood on the wall behind him.

The world tilted.

…

"REISI!"

…

That was his mate screaming.

Saruhiko.

…

But what was the name he'd called?

That name…

The memories of his mother, father, brother, calling that name over and over throughout the years all filled his head at once, and as he slid down onto the dais amid the terrified shouting of the occupants of the room, blood from the bullet wound in his stomach spreading out steadily, he suddenly realised he was never going to hear his family call that name ever again.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


End file.
